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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637568">Domestic Dean Oneshots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoitsoliviayo/pseuds/yoitsoliviayo'>yoitsoliviayo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Married Life, Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:26:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoitsoliviayo/pseuds/yoitsoliviayo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your life with the one and only Dean Winchester if he was never a hunter and got to live his apple pie life :)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester &amp; You, Dean Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Boxes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You can read these in any order, but there's lot of time hopping into the past and small details in each one that might not make sense! It's just from building the world :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house itself was small. A simple craftsman bungalow style with fresh white siding and mossy light green shutters. One story, built in 1934 with two bedrooms and a single bathroom. </p><p>The front yard already had a large lilac bush on the right side of the house and there were tiny plants growing in the flower beds lining the front porch. Your favorite part was the towering oak tree situated near the sidewalk that would be perfect for a tire swing. You could already imagine how vibrant the oranges on the leaves would look in the Fall… you could also imagine Dean grumbling when he’ll eventually have to get the leaf blower out to deal with the mess. The grass in front of the house was green and well-kept, looking so picture perfect that you wondered if you were really living in a landscaping catalogue. The realtor had mentioned that the previous owners, a couple in their 80s, had done a lot to preserve the house. You convinced Dean to go in on your “sappy” note to the owners (his words, not yours), thanking them for giving you such a wonderful space to start your new life together as a married couple. </p><p> Although the rooms were small, the main reason you both had felt so compelled to say yes to it was the backyard. You had a perfect view of it from the kitchen window above the sink, the slight dip in the landscape allowing for a huge yard. Perfect for a big dog to run around all day, although Dean would fight you on that one. Perfect for a huge swing set and maybe an above ground pool, but you two would cross that line when you came to it. When you first toured the house, Dean pointed to the back left corner of the yard talking about how he wanted to build a shed there for all of his tools and yard supplies. You could only shake your head and laugh at him and his ridiculous obsession with yard work. </p><p>You couldn’t get over how well-preserved the original dark walnut hardwood looked up against the freshly painted walls that you and Dean had just finished. The new light fixtures had just gone in, the kitchen countertops were just installed yesterday, the vanity piece for the bathroom was being delivered tomorrow… although the house was still empty, it finally felt like everything was coming together. </p><p>It’s not like you and Dean didn’t wait long enough for this moment. When he got promoted at the shop, his bonus was huge and his raise also helped the two of you out. It also helped that you continued to pick up any extra time that you could at the hospital. You two had worked for a decade in order to land your own home and here you finally were… standing in your empty kitchen. Your kitchen! </p><p>You made a mental note to unpack the KitchenAid that your mom had bought your for your first anniversary with Dean. Something about a colorful KitchenAid stand mixer sitting on a kitchen counter just signaled that you “made it”. Maybe you’d make homemade pie crust in it once you were all settled in… lord knows that Dean would love that. </p><p>You glanced behind your shoulder at the stack of taped boxes littering your entire kitchen. It was taking you longer than anticipated to unpack everything into the cabinets and you were starting to regret telling Dean that you could do it on your own while he futzed around with the new bedframe in your bedroom. </p><p>As you opened the next box in front of you, you laughed when you pulled out two white mugs labeled with a loopy  “Hubby” and “Wifey” sprawled across them. You didn’t even know where they came from, they definitely weren’t your and Dean’s style for home decor. When you first started picking out home decor, you always found yourselves cracking up in the aisles at home goods stores, making fun of the “couple shit”, as Dean would say. Hanging both mugs on your pinky finger, you made your way down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. </p><p>Dean had his back to you, grumbling while he was trying to screw two pieces of the frame together. The late afternoon light was hitting the back of his head just right, making him look like he was glowing. You smirked taking in the swell of his built biceps and the rough patches on the back of his neck. You would never stop thinking that he looked so good. </p><p>“Shit,” he quipped. </p><p>“Need some help?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.  </p><p>He craned his neck to look at you and almost gave into smiling at you until he realized that he still wanted to be angry about the bed frame. </p><p>“No,” was all he said. </p><p>Shaking your head at his absolute stubbornness, you gently set the mugs down on one of the empty dressers and sat cross-legged across from him on the floor. You held the two pieces of the frame together for him, not listening to his answer for help. He bit the corner of his bottom lip as he silently accepted your help, eyebrows furrowing in on the task at hand. When he finally screwed the two pieces together, you both looked up at the same time, eyes meeting. </p><p>“Thank you y/n, you’re the best wife ever. What would I do without you?” You laughed, filling his mouth with words for him. </p><p>He shook his head and smiled before resting his hands on your thighs and leaning over the frame to peck you on the lips. When he pulled back his eyes drifted to the mugs sitting on the dresser, scrunching his nose in disgust, he laughed, “Wifey?” </p><p>“I don’t know where those came from!” You held up your hands in surrender. </p><p>“You sure as hell aren’t calling me ‘hubby’ anytime soon, sweetheart.” </p><p>You raised your brows as if to say “Oh yeah?” and giggled before standing to your feet. Stepping over the bed frame to get back to the door, Dean reached out to catch your leg, his fingers grazing your calf, stopping you dead in your tracks. </p><p>“Dean!” You tried to shake him off, but he only gripped your leg tighter. You looked down at him and laughed while running your fingers through the top of his hair. </p><p>“How mad would you be if we don’t get to sleep on this new bed tonight?” He peered up at you, trying to give you those puppy dog eyes. Damn him. </p><p>“Can’t figure it out, Mr. Fix It?” You mocked. </p><p>“I think I need Sammy’s help,” he admitted before setting the screwdriver down and standing up. </p><p>“And to think that we could have christened our new bed tonight…” You teased. </p><p>You shook your head and snagged your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. You gently traced tiny circles with your thumbs at the nape of his neck and found yourself getting lost in those gorgeous green eyes. Almost instinctively he shuffled closer until both of you were pressed up against each other and he snagged his arms around your waist giving you a devilish grin. He leaned down, his lips grazing the bottom of your earlobe, breath warm against your skin. </p><p>He whispered, “Why don’t we christen the kitchen table then?” </p><p>You gave a breathy laugh before pulling away to look at him, “Too bad there’s boxes covering it.” </p><p>“Kitchen counter?” </p><p>“Boxes.” </p><p>“Sofa?” </p><p>“Boxes.” </p><p>“Floor?!” He groaned. </p><p>“Boxes!” You laughed, shaking your head.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Porch Swing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've always wanted a porch swing! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been sweltering all day. The air had been so humid that you had felt sticky from the time you woke up until now as the sun was just beginning to set. You hoped that the lack of sun would bring some cool air into the house and you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight. You mentally cursed Dean for refusing to turn on the air conditioning, but understood his reasoning; it was only the end of May after all. </p><p>At least the cool concrete walls and floors of the basement were giving you some relief as you switched out the loads of laundry. You and Dean were both off of work for Memorial Day and you both spent the day running around the house, trying to catch up on all the work that the two of you had been neglecting. Both of you were notorious for claiming that you’d get something done, only for the task to be still uncompleted days, even weeks, later. You glanced at the pile of paint cans and tools hanging out in the corner near the washing machine. Dean had claimed that he would finish the laundry room for you months ago. Point proven that the two of you were slackers. </p><p>Humming to yourself, you heard the basement door creak open and Dean called down to you, “Sweetheart, c’mere I wanna show you something!” </p><p>You didn’t argue with him, you were completely happy to leave the task at hand for a minute. You bent down and held the laundry basket of freshly dried clothes on your hip as you made your way up the stairs. Dean met you at the top, grinning like a mad man. You took all of him in and smiled back, his cheeks were rosy from being outside all day, freckles more visible than usual. </p><p>“What are you so smiley about, hmm?” You nudged him with the basket on your hip. </p><p>He chuckled before taking the basket from your hands and setting it on the kitchen table behind him, “You’ll see. Close your eyes.” </p><p>Now you were really wondering what was up. You watched him cut the grass through the kitchen window this morning while you caught up on the dishes. You knew that he had put the new mailbox in that the two of you picked out. He was grumbling about trimming some branches off of the oak tree in the front yard last night… what did he want to show you? </p><p>“I’m not closing my eyes!” You protested. </p><p>He shook his head at your comment, not listening to a word you said, before he took matters into his own hands and covered your eyes with his hands. </p><p>“It’s a surprise,” he whispered. </p><p>His lips against the bottom of your earlobe sent shivers down your spine. You gently placed both of your hands on top of his, as if to say “okay”, and you let him win. Whatever he wanted to show you must have been important. He nudged the back of your knee, a silent plea for you to start moving, and you slowly made your way through the house. </p><p>“Careful!” He laughed, suddenly jerking you to the side. </p><p>“Dean!” </p><p>“Okay, wait right here for a second.” He said, his hands leaving your eyes. </p><p>You stood in the middle of your living room and heard the front door creak open. So he was taking you outside. Before you could pester him anymore, he placed his hands on your shoulders and led you outside and onto your front porch. The air was much cooler than it had been, you mentally thanked the universe for a break from the humidity. You listened to the soft chirping of the cicadas mixing with Dean’s heavy breaths of anticipation behind you. </p><p>“Ready?” He said, his voice practically jumping with anticipation. </p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be!” You giggled. </p><p>You dropped your hands from your eyes and slowly opened them. Right in front of you, a white bench swing was hanging from the ceiling of your porch. You gasped before turning around to throw your arms around him. </p><p>“Dean!” </p><p>You nuzzled into his neck, holding him as tight as you possibly could. You felt the vibrations of his low chuckle against your chest while his hands ran up and down your back. </p><p>He kissed the top of your head, “You like it?” </p><p>You let out of a loud laugh before pulling away to look at him, “You remembered.” </p><p>He let out a small scoff, offended that you thought that he would ever forget anything that his girl would tell him. “Yeah, baby.” </p><p>During the first week that you two had moved in, you both had sat on the floor of the porch every night to eat dinner since your kitchen table hadn’t been delivered yet. You had pointed out how nice a bench swing would look once you were able to buy some new patio furniture. Dean was skeptical, but you went on and on about how much you’d like to read out there in the evenings, cuddle up with him after work, sit on it to drink your coffee in the mornings… you didn’t have to convince Dean any further. If his girl wanted a bench swing on the porch, then she’d get a damn bench swing. </p><p>While he was out with Sam last night, the two of them decided that they had the time to run to Home Depot and buy a swing for Dean to install over the long weekend. When they pulled in the driveway last night, Sam had convinced him to set it up as a surprise for you, insisting that you’d love it. Sometimes Dean swore that Sam knew you better than he did, of course his brother would come up with an idea that was so perfect and genuine. </p><p>“I love it,” you giggled, leaving his arms to go and enjoy your new present. </p><p>You fell back onto it, patting the seat next to you for Dean to join you. He threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You relaxed into him, resting the back of your head on his chest as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The gentle swaying of the back and forth motion was almost lulling you to sleep. The two of you had been up and running around since almost 7:30, how was it almost 8:00 at night now? </p><p>“You finish everything you wanted to?” He asked. </p><p>You nodded your head yes against his chest, “For the most part. Have to finish the last load of laundry.” </p><p>“I’ll fold that basket that you brought upstairs.” </p><p>“Ooh, does that mean that you’ll make dinner too?” You joked. </p><p>“Mhm let’s not cook tonight,” He mumbled, pressing his nose into the top of your head. “It’s kind of late anyways.”</p><p> You eyed him skeptically. The two of you had been so good with following your budget, did you really want to break it because you were both feeling lazy? He looked at you with pleading eyes… how were you supposed to say no to those eyes? Damn him. </p><p>“Only if I get to choose where we go,” You tease. </p><p>“Whatever your heart desires, sweetheart.” </p><p>You swing in silence for a couple of seconds while you debate your choices for dinner. Realistically, you knew that he’d prefer something like pizza or a burger, but you really wanted Mexican food. Or maybe Sushi, although you know he didn’t like that option very much. </p><p>“A California roll sounds amazing right now.” </p><p>You looked to him for an answer, he was trying so hard not to ruin your little moment of bliss by complaining about your want for the one type of food that he preferred the least. </p><p>You laughed, turning to kiss his cheek, “Kidding.” He visibly sighed and you asked, “Do you want to just order pizza?” </p><p>He gave a groan of pleasure and you laughed, “Pizza sounds perfect.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Period Cramps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean knew better than to bother you when you started your period. The emotional outbursts followed by the crying for no particular reason was his least favorite thing to deal with, not like you enjoyed any of it either. If you wanted him, you’d ask and he’d try to be there for you in any way that he could. So before Dean left for work this morning, he left a bottle of Ibuprofen on the nightstand and went to refill your water bottle before pressing a sloppy kiss to your temple and heading out the door. It was the little things, wasn’t it? </p><p>You remembered early on, when your relationship was still fresh and in the full on honeymoon phase when he used to subtly drop off a bag from the store filled with chocolate, tea, pain killers, and anything else that he’d spot that might make you happy. Once he went so far as to bring you flowers from the local florist that was so conveniently located right down the block from the garage that he worked at, claiming that they’d at least make you less grumpy. He was right, every time you looked at the bouquet of baby pink peonies and roses for the next week, you were grinning like a mad woman. </p><p>He used to love to pamper you, one of his favorite ways to do so was by drawing a warm bath with some of your favorite lavender bath salts that he had bought for you for your birthday. Although you secretly knew that he loved them, too. Drawing baths was his favorite way to make your period better because it usually led to you inviting him in, giving him one of those gorgeous smiles of yours while telling him to get naked and come cuddle up behind you. He’d slowly slide in, hissing at how the hot water was practically burning his skin off, before propping you up against his chest. He’d press small kisses to the back of your head, taking in the scent of your freshly shampooed hair and the bath salts filling the air. He had tried to take things further once before, but your cramps often left you cranky and not in the mood, so instead he’d just rub your lower abdomen and whisper if there was anything else he could do for you while you both relaxed in the hot water. </p><p>It’s not that Dean didn’t treat you well anymore, but being together for so many years had thrown both of you into a comfortable bliss where the two of you didn’t need to pull out all of the grand gestures in order to show that you cared about each other. You smiled to yourself thinking about the beginnings of your relationship, but a bad cramp sent you back to reality. You groaned again before turning onto your side on the bed, repositioning your heating pad underneath you. It seemed that your period was hitting you particularly hard today with cramps that had been lingering since you woke up and a wake of nausea that wouldn’t quit. You glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, Dean would be home soon and you did absolutely nothing other than lay in bed and rot away on your phone. There was laundry that needed to be done, dishes in the sink, you even told yourself that you were going to vacuum today. </p><p>You closed your eyes for only a minute, swearing that you’d pop another round of painkillers and then suck it up to try and get something ready for dinner before Dean got home. </p><p>“Sweetheart,” you felt calloused fingers brush across your cheek. You shifted, groaning again when you realized that you didn’t take any more medicine before you fell asleep. </p><p>“Mhm,” you mumbled, still coming out of your sleep. “Hand me the Ibuprofen.” </p><p>He chuckled and you watched him from your pillow as he reached onto your dresser and shook two pills into his hand. He dropped them into yours and then reached for your water bottle, handing it over to you. You lifted your chest from the pillow in order to swallow and felt his hand cup your shoulder blade, his thumb moving back and forth over your back. </p><p>“Need anything?” He asked, still rubbing. </p><p>You closed your eyes again and focused on the repetitive motion of this thumb slowly moving back and forth against your flimsy cotton tank top. </p><p>“I didn’t do the dishes.” You mumbled, cheek still squished into your pillow. </p><p>He pretended to tsk like he was disappointed with you, “Scoot.” </p><p>You griped about having to move, but shifted over, taking your heating pad with you. Once you settled, he pulled you into his chest so the two of you were facing each other, the heating pad radiating between both of your abdomens. </p><p>“Mhm, feels good,” he said shimming his pelvis against yours. “Maybe I should get one of these bad boys.” He joked. </p><p>You swatted his arm, “Steal this and I’ll kill you!” </p><p>He only pressed closer to you, “You say that now, but you’ll regret killing me when you’re horny in two days,” he playfully wiggled his eyebrows, “You’ll need me then, sweetheart.” </p><p>That earned him another swat to the arm, “My fingers have serviced me just fine before, I’m sure they can do it again.” You exclaimed, laughing. </p><p>“Oh really?” He teased before stealing the heating pad from you, throwing it behind his back. </p><p>“Dean!” </p><p>“What?” He said, feigning ignorance. </p><p>You made a quick grab for the heating pad by trying to reach over his side, but he caught your wrist and shook his head. </p><p>“Give it back!” You laughed for now; if you didn’t have it back on your abdomen in the next 30 seconds, your little moment was about to go sour. </p><p>Knowing that you would lose your temper, Dean reached behind him and settled the heating pad back on your abdomen. He rubbed softly on your stomach and you sighed into his touch, letting him spoil you for a minute. </p><p>“Reminds me of when we first started dating,” you smiled, recalling all those moments of him trying to rub your cramps away. </p><p>Dean smiled at the memory, his cheeks turning pink from being embarrassed about you getting so “sentimental”. You reached up to grab his cheek and pulled him in for a quick kiss. </p><p>“Wanna know something?” He asked. </p><p>“Mhm.” </p><p>“God it must have been one of the first times you were on the rag-” </p><p>“On the rag?! God Dean!” You interrupted before dissolving into a fit of laughter. </p><p>He laughed with you before continuing, “God we were so new, less than six months I think. And you told me that you weren’t feeling well because of your period. I remember I had to go to Sammy and ask him what I needed to get for you. Sam had to help me, Y/N.” </p><p>You both laughed at the thought of Sam having to sit Dean down to have the “period talk”. Sure Dean had slept with a lot of women before you came along, hell he even had a few long-lasting flings, but he was so new to the concept of relationships and commitment when you first got together. It was a long learning curve for him, really for the both of you, but you’d like to think that he had it down pretty good now. </p><p>You rubbed his shoulder endearingly at the thought of him going through all of the trouble in the beginning, “I love you.” </p><p>He grinned before leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips, “I love you more.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Knee Surgery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You thanked the nurse as she scribbled Dean’s vitals on the small whiteboard. The room certainly wasn’t calming anyone’s nerves. The plain beige walls and white accents made everything seem too sterile, almost as if the place wasn’t real. </p><p>She must have sensed Dean’s apprehension because she gave you a knowing smile, woman to woman, before turning back to Dean, “Really simple procedure and Dr. Harris is great. You have nothing to worry about.” </p><p>“Hear that, Dean? Nothing to worry about,” you smirked, crossing your arms. </p><p>He gave a tight smile, telling you to piss off with his eyes. He averted his attention back to the nurse and let out a strained,  “Thank you.” </p><p>As soon as she left the room he let out a huff of air before awkwardly patting the bed as if he was making sure that he was present and indeed living in the moment. You knew that he was nervous about going under, though he’d never admit that to you. He most likely wouldn’t need to have the surgery though if he had listened to you in the first place, though you’d never admit that to him. </p><p>He had been complaining about his right knee for weeks, wincing every time he got up, hissing when he had to do something as simple as walk down your driveway to get the mail. You urged him to at least get it checked out, but he had refused. He also refused the ice and Ibuprofen that you offered up, claiming that he was fine. He was always just “fine”. </p><p>You got the call while you were at work, Dean’s voice sounding strained and huffy over the phone as he told you that he was stuck in a chair because he couldn’t walk without searing pain shooting through his knee. After a round of scolding and a rightful “I told you so”, you texted Sam to see if he could come rescue his poor brother from the garage. Dean had apparently lifted something too heavy at work and his knee had decided to give out. When the doctor had told you that sometimes this happened with increasing age, you could have sworn that Dean was about to faint. If there was one thing that Dean hated, it was the impending crisis he felt that came along with getting older. </p><p>You watched as he anxiously clicked through the channels, switching from one to the next, his eyes glossing over the screen…  not really here… a little too lost in his thoughts to understand that he was acting like a lunatic. </p><p>“Hey,” you laughed, reaching out to grab the remote from his hand. </p><p>He jerked his arm out of your reach, “I’m watching that”, he huffed. </p><p>You glanced at the TV, a woman advertising a cookware collection was wildly gesturing to a set of pastel mixing bowls as the prices began to appear on the screen. Ah yes, just what Dean liked to watch, the home shopping network. </p><p>“No you’re not, you goof!” You smiled at him, but his eyes were glued on the whiteboard in front of him that listed his vitals, completely missing your face. </p><p>You rose from your chair that was pulled up near the bed and leaned over him, placing one hand on each side of his hips. He pursed his lips, turning his head away from you to look out the window. That wasn’t acceptable. You gently palmed his cheek, brushing your thumb along his jaw before turning his head to face you. </p><p>“Earth to Dean,” you whispered, studying his distant emerald green eyes. </p><p>When he didn’t answer, you continued, “It’s okay to be scared.” </p><p>“I’m not scared!” He scoffed, defensive that you’d even suggest such a thing. Dean Winchester, scared? Never. </p><p>“You won’t even look at me!” You chuckled, reaching up to run your hand through his hair. </p><p>“Sorry that I’m nervous to go under!” He griped. </p><p>There it was. </p><p>You smiled softly before giving him a reassuring kiss, “No one’s saying that you can’t be scared, I just want to make sure that you know that you’re gonna be fine.” </p><p>“I know I’ll be fine.” </p><p>You let the silence envelop the two of you for a second, reaching for his hand to give him a reassuring squeeze. You lightly rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, letting him focus on the repetitive motion of your touch instead of the surgery ahead of him. Leaning down to nuzzle into his neck, you let your other hand caress the back of his head, pulling him into your chest. You had known Dean for a long time, yet you had never pegged him as someone who would get so nervous over the idea of a routine surgery. You guessed it had to do more with the aftermath of the operation, the fact that he’d think he was going to be a bother to you and everyone else in his life while he recovered. Damn Dean and his pride. When you felt his breathing fall into a relaxed state, you pulled away and grabbed the disposable surgical cap they had left for him to put on. He rolled his eyes as you wrestled it on his head. </p><p>“There,” you said, feeling accomplished at the fact that you convinced Dean to finally give in to getting ready. </p><p>The sight of him laying in his little patterned mint green hospital gown with the surgical cap sent you into a fit of laughter, mostly because he just looked so damn cute pouting on the bed. He scowled, reaching to readjust the cap on his head in a fit of embarrassment. </p><p>“You look cute, baby!” You laughed while patting his cheek. </p><p>You stood back, pulling out your phone to capture the moment. </p><p>“Don’t you dare, sweetheart.” He threatened, eyes narrowing in on you. </p><p>You frowned before taking a picture of your husband’s grumpy face, “C’mon, can you smile please?” Dean shook his head no, “For me?” </p><p>You gave him the puppy dog eyes that he had miraculously used on you so many times before. He groaned, giving into what his beautiful wife wanted before plastering a big cheesy smile across his face. You grinned at the sight of your husband and your smile turned his into a genuine one, his face relaxing into a comfortable bliss while you snapped another picture of him. You then moved back to the bed, taking a seat on the edge before leaning onto his chest to get a picture of the two of you. </p><p>“No more pictures!” He protested, playfully shoving your cheek out of the frame. </p><p>You pulled his face in closer to you, “Look at the camera!” </p><p>He groaned before listening to you, but decided to press a slobbery kiss to your cheek last second as you snapped a selfie of the two of you. You laughed before pulling away to wipe the excess saliva off of your face. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure Sam and Cas are really going to enjoy a picture of you licking my face.” You teased. </p><p>“Oh this is going to them?” He arched his brows and you nodded. “In that case,” he said before lifting up his middle finger at the camera. </p><p>You made a disappointed face at the camera, laughing at the horrific picture that you two managed to take. You patted Dean’s shoulder before shaking your head, thinking about how much the boys were going to have a field day teasing Dean about his pre-op look. </p><p>You quickly sent the picture off to Sam and Cass saying, “Drama queen is ready for his surgery.” </p><p>Cas’ reply came first, “Good luck with the surgery, Dean. Nice outfit.” </p><p>Sam’s quickly followed, “Biggest baby I know. Let us know when he’s out.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arguably the two of the most important people in Dean’s life conveniently shared a birthday. You and Bobby out of all people were lucky enough to be born on the same day. </p><p>You had known from being friends with Sam before you had ever met Dean that both of the boys had a strained relationship with their father. Sam had told you bits and pieces about his childhood, most notably mentioning the times that their father would leave them for days to fend on their own. He never gave you more information than that though, and you felt that it was too personal to pry any further. When you had first started dating Dean, you would carefully mention his father, asking him if he felt the same as Sam did. Dean would only just huff something along the lines of Sam not understanding and then become cold and distant for the rest of the night. </p><p>What you did know though, was that Bobby Singer was more of a father to Dean and Sam than John Winchester ever was. Bobby was always there to lend a helping hand, give the best advice, or put the boys into their rightful place when you and Jess couldn’t. You relied on Bobby for just about everything from home improvement help to intimate questions about your husband’s mental health and how you could support him. You fondly remembered when you first started dating, wanting to pass out from apprehension at the thought of Bobby not liking you. Of course that couldn’t be further from the truth and your worries dissolved when Bobby laughed before pulling you into a big hug, telling Dean that you were way too beautiful for him and you instantly knew why Dean loved him so much. Before you knew it, you had also grown quite close with Bobby and Dean was absolutely over the moon that his favorite people got on so well. </p><p>It took Dean a long time to talk about his strained relationship with John, but when he finally gave you the details, you couldn’t help but shed a tear for him before wrapping your arms around him. Both of the boys had been missing a stable father figure in their lives, but Sam had become more used to the notion of living without his parents than Dean. You knew that he had been looking for someone to fill the missing role of a father figure in his life and you remembered slightly rejoicing as you watched Dean’s relationship with Bobby develop over time. Dean would probably never call Bobby his father because of the sheer devotion (undeserved in your opinion) that he still felt towards his own late father, but you knew deep down that he felt the same as you. Bobby Singer was a dad to the Winchester boys. </p><p>When you and Dean first moved into your house, he had been nervous that you were too far from Bobby. Only 25 minutes away from Bobby’s little house in the countryside, you hardly thought that you were too far removed, but Dean worried that Bobby would be lonely out there without the two of you dropping by all the time. You settled on Thursday night dinners, taking turns at who hosted. You looked forward to those nights, happy to see your husband’s mood lifted as he and Bobby chatted about anything and everything. You could only imagine how much Dean’s heart would swell even further if these nights continued in the future when you hopefully had children. Thinking about Bobby being a grandpa to your kids overwhelmed you with excitement. </p><p>On August 12th, you woke up to Dean lazily humming “Happy Birthday” while he gently pressed kisses up and down your neck. You rolled over and caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, laughing at your husband’s cheesy attempt at morning sex. </p><p>“Mhm happy birthday to me,” You mused. </p><p>“Want an early birthday present?” He mumbled, trapping you beneath his body with a playful grin. </p><p>You felt the familiar feeling of  anticipation race throughout your body as Dean carefully straddled you, leaning back on his heels to take in all of you at once. He gave you a smirk before running his calloused fingertips down the side of your thighs, carefully pinching your pajama bottoms in order to slowly slide them off. You nodded before reaching to slide your own top off, silently telling Dean to do the same. When he was shirtless, you reached up to run your hands across his chest, marveling at how your husband managed to eat like a horse and still be this ripped. He leaned down to kiss you, lips moving frantically like you were both teenagers trying to get in a quickie. You hastily grabbed his biceps, begging him to move his head lower and give you what you wanted. </p><p>“Eager, are we?” He flashed a toothy grin before placing a kiss on your breast, gently teasing your nipple with his teeth.</p><p>You gasped at the contact and let out a breathy moan before raking your fingernails across his back, begging him to stop teasing you. He worked your other breast in your hand, rubbing tiny circles around your nipple as he placed a kiss on your sternum. His lips worked furiously, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses from your chest and all the way down your stomach until he was right on your cunt. His tongue traced along your outer folds, begging for you to open your legs further. </p><p>“Already so wet for me, sweetheart.” He growled, coming up for a quick breath. </p><p>“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you gasped, arching yourself into him. </p><p>********<br/>
Needless to say, you and Dean were both in a great mood after your morning spent in bed. The two of you had spent the day getting ready though, because you weren’t just celebrating your birthday after all. Now everyone was here, Bobby, Sam, Jess… you even convinced Cas to agree to stop by for a little, telling him that it was your birthday and he had to come just for you. Just a casual night spent with the people you loved most, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. </p><p>After you finished dinner, you all sat around your glass patio table in the backyard while the summer sun was finally beginning to set in the sky. Each of you sipped on your drink of choice while you laughed at something stupid Dean had said. You grinned at him, hoping that he knew your smile was expressing pure love and admiration for him and the extended family that he had given you. He gave your foot a little nudge underneath the table, silently telling you that he loved you, too. </p><p>Sam excused himself from the table for a second, and you didn’t think much of it until he came back through the glass patio door balancing an adorable white cake lined with colorful sprinkles on the sides of it in his hands. You blushed and leaned your head on Bobby’s shoulder for a second before laughing. </p><p>“I thought I told y’all I didn’t want any of this crap!” Bobby yelled, but he was beaming at Sam like he had just won the lottery. </p><p>“And we thought what you said was a load of crap!” Dean shouted back before standing up to make his way around the table and clap a hand on Bobby’s back. </p><p>“Alright, alright,” Jess smiled, gesturing for Sam to set the cake down between you and Bobby. She leaned over the table, pressing a few random candles into the center of it. </p><p>Bobby gave her a look of annoyance, trying to tell her that he wasn’t going to blow out any damn candles but she just grinned, “You gotta blow out candles on your birthday, Bobby. You and y/n can do it together!” </p><p>He shook his head no, “Fine,” he protested, “you sure as hell aren’t singing though!” </p><p>You all laughed again and everyone gave a collective nod. Singing would have just been too cheesy, wouldn’t it? </p><p>“Move in closer, sweetheart. Gotta get a picture.” Dean bossed you, gesturing with the back of his hand for you to pull your chair in next to Bobby’s. </p><p>The fact that Dean Winchester, the most stoic man you knew, was grinning like a mad man, begging you to reposition yourself so he could capture the perfect picture was all too much to handle. You thought about how Dean would barely let you take a picture of the two of you together all those years ago, desperately trying to keep his emotions and personal life locked down. And now here he was, taking pictures of his family for his own enjoyment, his own memories. </p><p>You grinned, tilting your head so it was touching Bobby’s and you both held up a side of the cake with a hand on each side. Dean stood in front of the both of you, phone in hand as he bit his lip in concentration while he snapped a few pictures. When he felt satisfied, he looked up towards the both of you and nodded. </p><p>“Alright, blow ‘em out!” He pushed, waving his hands at the two of you to go ahead. </p><p>You and Bobby both turned to each other and gave a mutual nod before gently blowing out the candles. Everyone clapped as you blushed from the embarrassment of all eyes on you. As they all got lost in the chaos of cutting the cake, you turned to Bobby. </p><p>“Happy Birthday,” You grinned, raising your glass to him. </p><p>He shook his head out of modesty, Bobby hated the attention as much as you did. “Aw darlin’, I should be saying that to you. Another year older.” </p><p>“I’ll drink to that,” Dean said, budding into your conversation by leaning down to stick his head between the two of you from behind your chairs. </p><p>He reached his arm in front of you, showing the pictures that he took on his phone. Your heart melted at the sight of them, one of those was certainly going to be thrown up on the fridge by next week. He would probably even go and post one on Facebook tomorrow, showing all of his buddies from work what a banging wife he has. The fact that you had even convinced your husband to make a Facebook was still one of your greatest accomplishments. </p><p>He kissed your temple, rubbing the back of your neck with his large hands. He turned to you and whispered, “Good birthday?” </p><p>You rested your forehead against his for a brief moment, silently taking in the events of the day. “Yeah,” you breathed, “good birthday.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Isn't She Lovely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Talk of infertility issues.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometime in the evening, while you were chopping up some vegetables for dinner, right before Dean would stroll in from work and kick his dirty boots off in the mudroom, you realized that the two of you had been trying to get pregnant for over a year now and you still hadn’t succeeded. </p><p>Of course you knew that it wasn’t really your fault, you were smart. You knew that people struggled with fertility issues all the time, you just never thought that you’d be one of those people. In the beginning, after you both decided that you would go off the pill, Dean and you were pouncing on each other every chance you got. Lazy sessions in the morning before you both had to run off to work, quick fixes with you bent over the washing machine before you’d go out to meet with Sam and Jess, rough moments of passion where you thought that the two of you surely had broken the bed that time. All of that and still… nothing. </p><p>You were beginning to feel worthless. Why couldn’t you just get pregnant? You had been reassured by your mom and the rest of your girlfriends that it would happen soon enough, you just had to be patient. Fuck patience. How many times were you going to have to sit and cry on your bathroom floor after reading another negative test? How many times were you going to have you tell your husband it was another negative and watch his hopeful face fall? What were you doing wrong? Not eating enough iron? Maybe you just needed to go on more runs with Sam? Did you and Dean have to switch up your positions in the bedroom more? You quickly got lost in your phone, going on a hunt for information about why you were having so many issues. </p><p>You were so engrossed with the article that you were reading, you didn’t even hear Dean’s familiar ruckus of his return from work. You leaned onto the counter, biting your lip in an effort to concentrate but also to keep from crying. Most of the websites that you consulted said that maybe it was time for you to consider seeing a specialist. Did you really need to see a specialist? </p><p>“It smells great in here.” </p><p>His words pulled you out of your trance and you snapped your head up to look at him just as he was setting his lunchbox down onto the counter. When you locked eyes, his face faltered for a minute, wondering if he should ask you what was wrong. Dean liked to play that he wasn’t in tune with the concept of feelings, whether they’re his or anyone else’s, but Dean pretty much always knew when something was bothering you. </p><p>You nodded your head at his statement and grabbed the bell pepper in front of you, continuing to chop. Out of the corner of your eye you watched him grab a beer out of the fridge, his eyes glued to you the entire time. He cautiously stepped behind you, placing a hand on your hip, his other hand nursing his beverage. </p><p>He leaned down, lips almost brushing the bottom of your earlobe, and whispered, “Talk to me, sweetheart.” </p><p>It was in that moment that you decided to show every single worry and frustration you had. Dropping the knife to the cutting board, you braced both of your hands onto the counter and let loose an ugly sob. Dean clearly didn’t anticipate this from you, his hand moving quickly to make big reassuring strokes from your hip to your ribs. He took another swig of his beer and set it down on the counter, both of his hands now returning to your shoulders to turn you towards him. Seeing his face laced with concern only made things worse, you let out another sob and tried to pull away from him, but his grib hardened on your shoulders to hold you in place. </p><p>“Sweetheart…” He mumbled, pulling you into his chest. </p><p>He carefully held the back of your head with one hand while the other rubbed reassuringly up and down your back. All you could do was shake your head against his chest, your snot staining his shirt. If he noticed that your tears were dampening it, he didn’t say anything. You weren’t one to cry often and Dean hated seeing you in such raw pain like this. When he realized that the crying wasn’t going to die down anytime soon, he led you to the couch, pulling you on top of his lap. </p><p>“Shh…” he hushed, stroking the back of your hair. “It’s okay… you’ll be okay…” He harshly whispered, almost as if he thought the more serious he was uttering the words, whatever was making you so sad would rightfully fuck off. </p><p>You don’t know how long you stayed like that, but eventually you pulled away from him and wiped your nose with the back of your sleeve. You looked past him and out the window behind the sofa, it was dark outside now. Patting your face dry, you finally turned to look at him. His face softened at the sight of you, he hated seeing you cry. </p><p>“Hi baby,” he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek. </p><p>You placed your palm over his, “Hi.” </p><p>He smiled at this, at least being able to get a word out of you. He leaned in to rest his forehead against yours, “Bad day?” He asked, breath hot against your face. </p><p>You shrugged, “Something like that.” </p><p>He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something to you, but wasn’t sure if he should. He let out of a huff of air through his lips and sighed, “Is it about us trying?” </p><p>You gave a sad smile and shrugged again, “I just realized that we’ve been trying over a year.” You sniffed, “A whole year, Dean.” </p><p>Without another word out of you, he grabbed the back of your head, a little rough at first, and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss that screamed “I love you”. When he pulled away, he wiped another stray tear from the corner of your right eye with his thumb. </p><p>“We’ll figure it out. We can find a specialist.” He said earnestly. </p><p>You nodded having already considered this. He pressed another sloppy kiss to your lips. </p><p>“This isn’t your fault. Hell, maybe my swimmers aren’t working,” he said desperately in between kissing you again. “Maybe it's me, sweetheart.” </p><p>This got a laugh out of you. He smiled when he realized that he was able to cheer you up, even if it was only a little. He kissed your temple before standing up and pulling you to your feet. </p><p>You protested, “Deeean!” Your socks sliding along the hardwood floor as he tugged on your arm. </p><p>“You leave me no choice, woman!” He yelled, bending down in a singular swift motion to lift you off of the couch by your armpits. </p><p>You giggled, feeling ticklish from him grabbing your underarms, and tried to swat him away. Snagging a single arm around your waist, he reaches for his phone and pulls up some music, pressing play and letting the sound of Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely play from the small speaker you have set up. </p><p>You tilt your head at him and can’t help but smile. This was one of your songs, one that will never fail to put a smile on your face. Dean knows, he always knows. </p><p>He releases his grip from around your waist and grabs your right hand, leading you as if you were about to ballroom dance. You let him manipulate your body, letting him lead as he dramatically sways back and forth with you. A loud, bellowing laugh escapes your lips as he dips your elbow down, both of your bodies bending at almost a 90 degree angle. </p><p>“Isn’t she lovely…” he sings loud and proud. Embarrassment does not exist between the two of you anymore. </p><p>He leans in to place another hasty kiss upon your lips. You smile at him and step closer, allowing him to tightly wrap himself around your shoulders. He’s got you locked beneath his arms and your breathing even feels a little restricted, but there’s nowhere else that you’d rather be. You softly started to sway from one foot to the other with him, allowing yourself to get lost in the repetitive motion of rocking back and forth. </p><p>He cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. “I, uh, talked to Cas,” he said. </p><p>You playfully rolled your eyes. As much as you loved having Cas around as your own personal go-to guy for all things medical, you wished that Dean would keep some things private. Not that Cas would ever do or say anything to make either of you ashamed or uncomfortable. You knew from working with him at the hospital that he managed to be one of the most caring doctors with a meticulous eye. Though reserved and generally a quiet guy, he managed to be a patient favorite. </p><p>“He’s got a few specialists in mind that we could see,” He continued, staring intently at you for some sort of sign to indicate how you were feeling. </p><p>You nodded, “Maybe we should have him over, ask him for some details before we dive in.” </p><p>You hated admitting this, but it was time to acknowledge that the two of you might need help conceiving. Your eyes began to well up again and you mentally cursed yourself for not being able to hold it together. </p><p>“Hey,” he tilted your chin up to look at him. “Let’s not cry anymore tonight, yeah? I don’t like seeing you cry, sweetheart.” He hummed. </p><p>You nodded, desperately trying to keep your tears at bay, but it was no use. You buried your head into his chest and felt his hands rub slow circles on your back. You didn’t know how you’d be able to get through moments like this without your husband’s reassurance and sheer dedication to always make you happy. You were eternally grateful for Dean.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Jealous</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Talk of infertility.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You turned back onto your side, sighing after seeing the time on your phone glare back at you. You were tossing and turning all night, silently fuming at the fact that your brother in-law and his wife managed to get pregnant before you and Dean did. You loved Sam and Jess with all your heart, you really did, but when Jess told you that she was pregnant this morning, the huge smile on her face when she passed on the mimosa at brunch… it just made you want to punch her. </p><p>They didn’t know that you and Dean had been trying for over a year now. Every question about children directed towards the two of you was met with a laugh or brushed off comment, making people think that maybe the two of you weren’t interested. If they only knew… </p><p>You felt that Jess probably would’ve handled telling you differently if she had known the amount of negative pregnancy tests you’ve acquired and the moments you’ve spent sobbing on the toilet over one line instead of two. You didn't even think that Dean told Sam about you guys trying for so long. The situation just seemed to loom over the two of you almost all the time. No one knew the deep desire that you two shared to start your own family. But Jess and Sam were absolutely over the moon and you were happy for them, you really were. So when Jess told you both, Dean reassuringly squeezed your thigh underneath the table to silently tell you that everything would be okay, and the two of you pushed your pain aside and offered your congratulations. </p><p>You didn’t know how you were going to manage it when Jess would inevitably ask you to start doing things like shop for baby clothes, talk about names, complain about being pregnant. You wanted to complain about being pregnant. You would give anything to have terrible morning sickness and an achy back. The fact that Dean would have a niece or nephew before he’d have his own children was sending you into a spiral of thoughts that you just couldn’t escape. </p><p>You sat up against the headboard and glanced down at Dean, arms splayed out and face completely smushed into the pillow. You didn’t want to wake him up, he had to be up early and you knew how much he loved his beauty sleep. You gently bit your thumb nail while you toyed with all of the thoughts running rampant through your mind. Deciding that you didn’t want to think about it any longer, you got up to use the bathroom. </p><p>As you crawled back into bed, Dean shifted onto his side and peered up at you. </p><p>“Why are you up?” He mumbled, cheek still smushed into the pillow. </p><p>You flopped down onto the pillow next to him, turning to lay on your side so you were facing each other. You stayed quiet for a minute, debating if you really wanted to get into all of this in the middle of the night. You were aware that he already knew how much the whole situation was bothering you; hell, it was bothering him too. He of course was just more reluctant to tell you. He pulled you closer to him by resting a hand on the top of your hip and sighed. You melted into his touch, your body slightly relaxing just from having him near you. </p><p>“Is it about Jess?” </p><p>The words hung in the air. He already knew the answer, but he wanted your confirmation. You nodded and he pursed his lips together, almost as if he was debating how he wanted to handle the conversation beginning between the two of you. </p><p>“Mhm.” Was all you managed to say. </p><p>He gently scratched your waist through your cotton t-shirt, giving you a reassuring rub. When you didn’t say anything else, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see another pitiful look from him. </p><p>“I knew you weren’t okay earlier.” He said. </p><p>You nodded, opening your eyes to see concern plastered across his face. What else was there to say? You weren’t just “not okay”. You were pissed. You were annoyed. You were guilty that you felt pissed and annoyed with two of your family members that you loved very dearly. You were jealous. </p><p>You let out a bitter laugh, “God, I hate her right now.” </p><p>All Dean did was nod. What he didn’t tell you was that he sort of hated Sam too at the moment. You weren’t the only one green with envy about all this. </p><p>“You don’t mean that.” He responded. </p><p>You shook your head no. “No, I think I do.” </p><p>You did hate her right now. It wouldn’t last forever, it probably wouldn’t even last until the end of the week. But you really hated Jess. </p><p>“I hate Sam right now.” He revealed. </p><p>This genuinely surprised you. Sam and Dean had such an unbreakable bond, and while you knew that Dean was hurting about not being able to get pregnant as much as you were, you didn’t think that he’d ever manage to utter anything so real about hating his brother. </p><p>It was your turn to say it now, “You don’t mean that.”</p><p>You both stared at each other, too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to say anything else. You both knew that you didn’t mean it, but you wanted to sit with this jealousy for a little bit longer. You had to put the blame somewhere and it was easier than putting it on yourself for a change. His hand, still resting on your waist, accidentally brushed across your lower abdomen, right where a baby bump could be. You breath hitched and you froze, unable to even express how ridiculously tired and devastated you were that you couldn’t give Dean the one thing that he wanted most right now. </p><p>A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you sniffed, embarrassed that you were about to cry over this yet again. Dean managed to pull you in even closer so that your foreheads were practically touching. He rested his hand flat against your abdomen, his eyes tightly closed in order to keep his own tears at bay. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your hand coming to rest on top of his. </p><p>“Don’t apologize,” he growled, upset that you continuously place the blame on yourself. “It’s not your fault.” He whispered softly. </p><p>“I’m tired of this,” you mumbled. </p><p>His thumb gently brushed a stray tear off of your cheek, but he held his hand in place after. The two of you breathed in silence, just staring back at one another. You two managed to have this conversation almost every night, what more was there to say? </p><p>“I know, sweetheart.” He murmured. </p><p>You could see the brokenhearted look plastered across his face and you wondered how long you’d have to keep laying in bed across from your husband and see those sad eyes. They’d been like that all day, his eyes. You were sure that Sam knew something was off between the two of you after they shared the news, but he must have chosen to ignore it. </p><p>You slid his hand into your palm and pressed a kiss to it. “You should call Sam tomorrow,” You suggested. </p><p>“Why?” He grunted. </p><p>You tilted your head at him, giving him a ‘Really?’ sort of stare. He knows that Sam can read him like a book, obviously Sam knew that something is wrong. What good would it do anyone if you and Dean just kept your feelings bottled up? </p><p>“I think you guys should talk,” You push, slowly dragging your fingers up and down his bare arm. “You should tell him about what’s going on…” </p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“You guys are both insane when you develop your grudges against each other and-” </p><p>“I’m a grown ass man, Y/N. Sam and I don’t develop grudges.” He interrupted snarkily. </p><p>You knew that he wasn’t trying to be short with you, the whole situation and the late hour were getting to him. You decided to let his words go and replace what could’ve been a caustic comment of your own with a small peck on the lips. </p><p>“Think about it,” you mumbled, turning back onto your side to face away from him. </p><p>He said nothing, but you felt him scoot closer to your back. He draped his arm over your waist and pulled you in, breath warm up against the back of your neck. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the gesture was his way of giving in.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Breaking Point</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Talk of depression and alcoholism.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Your husband had struggled with depression for most of his life, whether he realized it or not was another thing. </p><p>Dean thought that he could handle anything and everything that life threw at him. The death of both of his parents, the abandonment issues that his father had left him with, the constant compulsion to be a sort of father figure in Sam’s life, watching his wife struggle with infertility issues… just to name a few things that life had tossed at him thus far. </p><p>Before he met you, hell even after the two of you had been together for years, Dean struggled to voice his feelings about anything that was bothering him. The heavy presence of toxic masculinity in his life had convinced him that he wasn’t allowed to share anything that was going through that mind of his. Before you two had started dating, sleeping with anyone who breathed seemed to dull that ache in his heart. And then you came along, a breath of fresh air in his lungs. Sam had of course known the ins and outs of this brother before you and he saw the change in Dean’s demeanor. Dean was smiling more, suddenly motivated to take care of himself, perform well at work, actively try to express his feelings… and it was all for you. </p><p>Sam thought that you really were the end to Dean’s self-destructive behavior. Dean had changed, for the better. But like all relationships, as you and Dean became more comfortable with one another and you fell deeper in love, the honeymoon phase slowly wore off, allowing both of you to show more of your true colors. You did make Dean happy, happier than anything else ever had before, but sometimes not even the people we love can’t save us from our own heads. </p><p>Occasionally, Dean would enter depressive episodes that, in the beginning, neither of you knew how to handle. For a while he turned to alcohol, the warm burn of whiskey seemed to be the only thing that he deemed worthy of getting out of bed for. You knew when he was going through these episodes and you tried to remind yourself of that every day so that you wouldn’t lose your mind out the sheer frustration and hurt your felt when he refused to hold you at night or when spending time with a bottle of whiskey seemed like a more promising prospect than time spent with you. You didn’t like to think about all of the built up resentment you had against him while he was at his worst. You were often reminded of what you thought of as the breaking point of your relationship, deeming it one of your worst memories. </p><p>It was right after the two of you had gotten engaged when he seemed to slip into a more severe episode. He had been on the bottle all day doing nothing but sitting on the couch, absentmindedly staring at the wall while you worried about what to do with him. Sam was no help, offering little advice or input when you had called him in a panic about Dean’s state. You didn’t blame him, you figured that he’d already seen Dean like this many times and Dean had always managed to pull himself out of it eventually. Unfortunately you felt that wasn’t the case this time… you didn’t know if Dean was going to be able to come back from this one by himself. </p><p>He seemed sedated from his spot on the couch, in such a deep trance that you didn’t have the slightest clue on how to help. You faintly made your way over to him, watching as he lifted his glass to his lips, wincing as he downed another sip. He leaned his head up against the back of the couch, eyes distant and glassy as he looked at you. </p><p>You took a deep breath of courage, figuring that you had nothing to lose if you tried to get through to him. “Dean, please…” You whispered, kneeling between his legs. </p><p>He grunted as a response. He seemed to be looking at you, but he wasn’t with you, not really. <br/>You placed your hands on his knees, hoping that your touch would maybe electrify something within him, make him feel again. Any feeling, even if it was just for a second… He seemed uninterested by your touch, instead just taking another sip of his drink. </p><p>“Did you eat today?” You asked. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>You could feel yourself frowning at his response but decided to push more, “Do you want me to make something for you?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“You should really eat something,” You coax. </p><p>“Damn it, Y/N I don’t want to fucking eat anything!” He boomed, jerking his body so violently that the contents of his glass spilled out onto the couch cushions. </p><p>You instinctively recoiled, scrambling away from him out of fear. Dean lost his temper frequently, his little outbursts over Baby or the score of the football game never seemed to phase you, but something about his response seemed darker than anything he’d ever said to you before. His eyes wavered for a second. He knew that he just scared you, proving that his worst fears about himself were coming true. He was terrified that one day he’d hurt you because of all of this, and that day was finally here. </p><p>You could feel your chest getting tighter by the second, anger rising up your throat like bile. You bit your lip so hard you thought you might draw blood in an effort to keep from crying, but it was no use. </p><p>“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You shrieked, throwing your hands up in exasperation. </p><p>He squirmed away from you and looked up at the ceiling, desperate to avoid your dejected eyes and your caring questions. He wondered why the hell you cared about him so damn much; it was infuriating. When were you going to realize that he was the worst type of man to love? What the hell could he offer you anymore? He needed to push you away, you needed someone better who could give you a life that you deserved. </p><p>You were done being nice. You were done bending over backwards to try and figure out what the hell you could realistically do to help him. You knew that your judgement was clouded by sheer anger and misunderstanding right now but you couldn’t help yourself as you lept to your feet and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to come face to face with you. He tried to fight you, turning his head to get away from your eyes but you were done playing games. You had to get to him. </p><p>“Look at me!” You yelled, on the verge of feeling manic. </p><p>Your eyes met and you finally felt that he was looking at you, at least registering what you had just said. Registering your anguish. You felt your own hot tears streaming down your cheeks, unable to keep it together. </p><p>“You should go,” he urged, trying to push you away, but your hand stayed squared on his jaw. </p><p>“What?!” You laughed through an exhausted sob. “You don’t get to tell me to go! You don’t get to tell me what’s best for me,” you screamed. Dean just looked at you like he had done the worst thing in the world. “I’m trying so hard…” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I don’t know what else I can do,” you whispered. </p><p>“I’m no good for you!” His voice boomed. He tried to stand up and push you away, but your body blocked him from doing so. You noticed his eyes beginning to well up, tears threatening to overflow at any minute. </p><p>He sucked in a shaky breath and then let his tears spill. In that moment you didn’t know if you had ever seen Dean audibly sob. Sure there had been tears for a while after his father had died, but this? This was completely different. These were uncontrolled, uninhibited sobs. </p><p>“All I do is hurt you, Y/N!” He yelled, breath warm against your cheeks, “I make your life a living hell!” </p><p>Your heart broke at his words. How could he think that he hurt you? When had he ever done anything to hurt you? You thought of all of the times when Dean was the most loyal, compassionate, caring man to you. This was the man who never failed to hold your hair back when you were sick, the man who consistently surprised you with dinner when you worked third shift at the hospital, the man who secretly cried with you when you forced him to watch sappy rom coms. </p><p>You shook your head. You couldn’t let him feel like this any longer.  “Get up!” You uttered. </p><p>You desperately tugged at his arms, silently begging him to listen to you, just this once. Your desperate clawing at his shirt eventually convinced him to give in and listen and he rose to his feet. You stumbled down the hallway as if the two of you were drunk, both of you still crying your eyes out. You grabbed his arm, dragging him straight into the bathroom. He leaned against the vanity counter as you reached into the shower to turn it on. </p><p>“I am not getting into the goddamn shower!” </p><p>“You stink!” You exclaimed, pulling him from the counter. “You reek of alcohol and fucking sweat!” You pushed him straight in, fully clothed. </p><p>He just stood there, letting the warm water completely soak his clothes. His body slumped against the wall, legs looking like they were about to give up any second. You shrugged your cardigan off and stepped in, realizing that you needed to help him support himself. How did you not realize that he was so tired that he couldn’t even stand? You sniffled as you held him up against the wall, letting the warm water soak your own clothes. </p><p>“Y/N…” He groaned, deep and guttural. </p><p>“No, Dean!” You sobbed, hysteric. “No! I don’t know how we help you, I don’t. But I’m going to try,” You slid your hands up to cup his cheeks, “We need to find you a therapist and, and-” you kissed his forehead, hands frantically rubbing his face, “You need to talk to me when it gets this bad, when you’re tempted to drink the entire bottle. Me or Sam. Or Bobby. God, even Cas.” You breathily laughed through your tears, “Someone Dean.” </p><p>He stayed quiet, listening to your plea. </p><p>“You have to do this for us,” you sobbed, unable to stop the words spewing out of your mouth. “Please,” you breathed. “Please, you have to do this for yourself. We’re getting married. We’re gonna have kids,” you added. </p><p>Your whole body was shaking as you tried to hold him up against the wall, but you gave in and decided to let him sink to the ground. The two of you sat on the tile floor, droplets of water mixing with your tear-stained faces. You straddled his thighs and decided to completely envelop him in a tight hug. Eventually his breathing slowed, but you still held onto him for dear life. In that moment, you knew that the next steps were going to be hard. Convincing Dean to lay off the alcohol and find a therapist wasn’t going to be easy, but that could wait a few minutes. For now, you were going to hold him a little while longer. You were going to help him see that he was worth it.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Uncle Dean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Brief mentioning of infertility. </p><p>Hi! I think it would be fun to try something new and take requests. I've never done that before, so if you have any ideas or want to see something, let me know :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean Winchester looked good with a baby in his arms. </p><p>You beamed at the sight of your husband tucking Jackson into the baby carrier that was nestled across his chest. Dean looked down at his nephew, blowing a raspberry onto his cheek as the two of them faced each other. Jackson’s giggle lit up the whole world, making you positively swoon over the little man. Who wouldn’t swoon over the kid? Sam and Jess made a damn cute baby. </p><p>He turned to you, gesturing to his torso with an ‘Eh? Eh? Check it out!’ motion. You giggled. He was so excited about all things baby after Jackson arrived. Who knew that Dean Winchester out of all people would have been so excited to try out a baby carrier in the grocery store? </p><p>“Looks good,” You said, coming up behind him to rub his shoulder. You locked eyes with Jackson and smiled. “Are you ready to get some groceries, Jackson?” You cooed. </p><p>He gurgled as if he was responding to you. Dean turned to you and smiled, “I’d say that was a yes from him.” </p><p>“He’s gonna fall asleep in ten minutes, tops.” You smirked, reaching over Dean’s shoulder to smooth Jackson’s dirty blonde hair. </p><p>Dean turned his head to you and craned his neck to press a quick peck to your cheek, “Then let’s get a move on and make this fast. This thing is convenient but damn it’s already a little uncomfortable. How the hell does Sammy wear this all the damn time?” </p><p>You shook your head at your husband’s persistent complaining as you made your way through the parking lot and into the store. You watched Dean dot over Jackson from the corner of your eye as you grabbed a cart and pulled up your list on your phone. You thought it was impossible to fall more in love with this man, but watching Dean coo over your nephew was sending your heart (and baby fever hormones) into overdrive. You already had a theory about how Dean would be a wonderful dad after all those years of basically raising Sam; look at the incredible person that he turned out to be. He was going to be no different with Jackson or the children that you hoped to have one day. </p><p>“I feel like I should make something that Sam can bring back when he picks Jackson up later,” you suggest. “Jess told me that work was kind of kicking her ass this week and hasn’t he been working overtime for that new case he’s on?” </p><p>You turned and expected to see Dean standing right next to you, but he was off in his own little world, eyes zeroed-in on Jackson as he slowly bounced on the balls of his feet. You thought your heart was in overdrive before, but now you thought you were going to have a damn heart attack from all of the cuteness. Moments like these used to hurt, where Jackson was a constant reminder that you still couldn’t have a baby. But as he began to grow, everything about him suddenly changed your outlook on your infertility struggles. Every smile when you rocked him to sleep, every giggle when you’d tickle his nose, just watching him make those intoxicating grabby hands when Dean would come to grab him from the stroller… it was enough for you. Recognizing your own impatience and desire for a baby of your own, you knew that it certainly wouldn’t be enough to last you a lifetime, but it was absolutely filling the empty hole in your heart for now. </p><p>“Dean!” You laughed, waving a lemon in front of his face. </p><p>His neck snapped to you and he gave you a pointed look. He had a gentle hand on the back of Jackson’s head, holding him close to his chest. </p><p>“Can’t you see I’m trying to get him to sleep?” He hissed. </p><p>You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at how serious he was about trying to get Jackson to nap. “Realx, babe.” You said. </p><p>As you slowly made your way through the aisles and checked more items off your list, Jackson was sure enough fast asleep against Dean’s chest. You threw a box of uncooked pasta in the cart and then found yourself right back at Dean’s hip. You peered forward and smiled as you brushed your thumb across Jackson’s cheek. “Your mommy and daddy are gonna be so happy that you took a little nap today,” you whispered. </p><p>You turned to look up at Dean so you had someone to share the moment with. He turned to you and leaned down to press a quick peck your cheek, “I love you,” he mumbled. </p><p>Shocked, you raised your eyebrow at him. Dean had certainly gotten better at openly expressing and verbalizing his love for you over the years, but it was still rare for him to blurt it out randomly in places like the grocery store. “What’s gotten into you?” You joked. </p><p>His face faltered for a second at your reply and he frowned, “You got a problem with me lovin’ you?” </p><p>You playfully slapped his arm before rubbing his back, “I will never have a problem with you lovin’ me.” </p><p>“I am so sorry to interrupt, but you two are just the cutest!” A woman’s Southern drawl broke you from your moment. You both turned to her, a lady no younger than 60, wearing bright red lipstick with hair so high it was “close to God” as all the Southern ladies liked to say. </p><p>You blushed as she reached beside where you were standing for her own box of pasta, “You both remind me of me and my husband, bless him…” she sighed like she was lost in a day dream, suddenly somewhere far from the middle of aisle 13. “He passed four years ago, bless him.” You both nodded and Dean coughed an “I’m sorry” as she stared back at the two of you. What else were the two of you supposed to say? She continued, “And this baby! I remember that newborn period after my first, where you’re so tired you can barely think straight, but they’re so darn cute that it’s worth it!” She laughed, craning her neck to get a look at the baby. “Oh isn’t he precious! You two sure made a good one-” </p><p>“Oh, uh, he’s not ours,” you try to say, but your words are lost in her continuous rambling. </p><p>“-gosh every time I even see a baby I just lose it!” She cackles, throwing her hands up in the air like a mad woman. You and Dean glance at each other, both of you thinking ‘Is this lady for real?’ without having to say it to one another. “How many months?” </p><p>“He’s just over four months,” you smile. </p><p>Her face falters for a second and she seems to zero in on you, “And how are you sweetie? You know so many new moms feel a period of real fatigue and stress right about now. Hopefully you’re taking care of yourself and the baby but-” </p><p>“He’s actually our nephew!” You exclaimed, but it came out more like an angry yip. You felt a sense of urgency to just get this woman to shut up. She was as sweet as a peach, but the baby talk was beginning to hurt. </p><p>Dean turned to you, a look of concern plastered across his face. He knew that you were losing patience with this lady and he needed to swoop in and diffuse the situation before you completely lost it. The woman’s face was beet red and she slid her palms across her jeans, clearly embarrassed. </p><p>“No harm,” Dean said, giving the woman a kind smile. “Little guy’s a handful so we just took him off my brother’s hands for the day.” </p><p>Dean tapped your shoulder, nudging you away from the woman. You both nodded politely at the woman and she cleared her throat before bolting in the other direction. You stayed silent for the rest of the trip, focused on grabbing everything on your list and then just getting the hell out of this god awful store. As you headed back to your car, you watched Dean carefully maneuver Jackson out of the carrier and into his carseat, being careful not to disturb him. </p><p>When he finally got things squared away and slid into the passenger seat, you pushed your sunglasses up and turned to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me but the baby talk and the blabbing,” you drawled out. </p><p>He nodded before reaching over to give your knee a tight squeeze, “It’s okay, sweetheart.” You cocked your head at him, giving him a ‘Really?’ look. He shook his head, “I’m serious!” He said, letting out a breathy laugh. “That woman was a lot.” </p><p>You nodded, “I was about to lose my mind!” You laughed, finally putting the situation behind you. </p><p>“I was ready to step in and block you,” he smirked. “Looked like you were about to tear her hair out.” </p><p>You teasingly slapped his arm, “Hey!” </p><p>“Whatever,” he shrugged. “Jackson’s got a fiesty aunt. I happen to like that lil’ bit of fire.” He smirked. </p><p>“Like his Uncle Dean isn’t just as feisty!” You exclaimed, “You better hope he doesn’t inherit a temper like you and Sam!”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Words of Affirmation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I thought it would be fun to write something for each of the love languages! Let me know what you think :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As someone who’s love language was words of affirmation, being with Dean was hard at first. Really, really, hard. You were aware of his obvious love for you, but it was difficult to coax him into almost being real with you. Hearing “I love you” every once in a while wouldn’t kill him, you constantly thought. During the first few years of your relationship, you could probably count the number of times he had uttered the words to you on one hand. You didn’t want to beg him to say them either, because then they just came out forced and you both felt awkward and unsatisfied. It’s not like he never said it, of course he told you that he loved you, but never as much as you needed. </p><p>It drove a wedge between the two of you in the early days. You’d feel worthless, like a lovelorn teenager who was desperately pining over a boy. You kept your feelings bottled up, letting them build like a brick wall around your heart. It got to a point where his touch seemed to bother you and there was virtually nothing he could do would make you happy. While you appreciated his body crushing hugs and flirty neck kisses, you were desperate for him to use his words. You felt like a moody and quite frankly, high-maintenance teenager who felt that nothing was good enough. Of course he was good enough, he was better than that! Dean had many redeeming qualities, his fierce loyalty to you and his family, his instinct to protect (and even nurture), and his snarky humor and cocky charm made you fall in love with him in the first place. Why didn’t it seem like it was enough?</p><p>Eventually your resentment had gotten so out of control that one night, you actually cried after sex. Dean had proven to be… intense… in bed. Normally, you were all over it, but on that particular evening you had been wishing that he’d just be a little more gentle, maybe tell you that he loved you. His usual ways weren’t cutting it. You wanted to have sex with him, he’d never force you into something you didn’t want, but while he ran to get a towel after the two of you had finished, your disappointment about the new lack of emotional connection came creeping in. You felt like a drama queen as you bit your lip in an effort to keep from crying. By the time he came back to the bed, you were silently heaving, chest moving up and down at a jagged pace while a few tears slid down your cheeks. </p><p>You remember seeing the outright horror on his face when he came back into the room, “Son of a bitch,” he muttered while racing to your side. As he helped you sit up, you could tell that he was so terrified that he had done something to hurt you. </p><p>The incident forced the two of you to expel everything and come clean about your feelings.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” he had said. “You don’t think I love you?” He looked absolutely gutted, like you had just told him that he had been doing everything wrong all along. His worst fear was that your relationship was now broken. </p><p>“I know you love me,” you cried, hysterically. “But I wish that you would just say it more often.”</p><p>From that moment on, Dean made an effort to make you feel loved in the way that you needed. It took time for him to understand that people needed to be loved in different ways, but he got the hang of it quickly. He had always been keen on learning new things. It started out small, little compliments here and there, a quick text during the day to tell you that he missed you. Eventually, his compliments and his endearing words were frequent and most importantly, meaningful.</p><p>“You look nice, sweetheart.” He’d say when you left for work in nothing special, just your plain scrubs. But he did mean it; you could be wearing a ratty old t-shirt and he’d still think that you looked stunning. </p><p>“You’re perfect as is, baby.” He’d laugh in between kisses while he tried to convince you that your jokes were, indeed, very funny.</p><p>“You’ve been working hard and I’m so proud of you.” He’d whisper after a particularly tough day at work while he rubbed your back.</p><p>“You look so sexy in that dress; it should be illegal.” He’d smirk before pulling you in for a deep kiss.</p><p>“Damn, Y/N! You’re so smart!” He’d exclaim while he watched you come up with a fix for the leaky pipe under the kitchen sink.</p><p>“I love you.” He’d murmur as he was on the cusp of sleep, reaching out to gently brush the stair hairs behind your ear. </p><p>Sooner or later, words of affirmation came easier to Dean. He seemed more comfortable expressing his feelings to you. All he had to do was remind himself that he would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping out of his emotional comfort zone. </p><p>Dean liked to be in tune with how you were feeling so he could figure out the right words to say. He never wanted his girl to be having a rough go of it without him trying to fix it. After a concerning conversation with Cas, he learned that you were having a particularly hard week at work. The emergency room had been at capacity for days, everyone was trying to learn the new charting system, and you had lost two patients in the span of 45 minutes during the last few hours of your shift. </p><p>“I really don’t want to gossip about Y/N,” Cas said over the phone. “But she was a bit hysteric after she lost her two patients.” He was silent for a second, making Dean’s heart beat out of his chest. “I think she was embarrassed after the fact.” </p><p>“Did you talk to her last night?” Dean asked, hoping that someone was able to be there for you when it happened. </p><p>“Dean,” Cas sighed. “You know that I care for her deeply, but I cannot be her friend at work the way I am when we aren’t at the hospital.” Dean thought that was a load of bullshit but he didn’t didn’t seem to understand the dynamic between the staff in the ER. Cas was silent for a second before he quietly added, “Check up on her, okay?” </p><p>After your shift, you had gone straight to the shower before falling into bed, skipping dinner all together. Now, Dean knew why and he was determined to make you feel better. It wasn’t often that Cas let Dean in on the happenings at work, claiming that you were a grown woman and he wasn’t going to gossip about your bad days to Dean. So Dean knew it was at least a little serious when Cas called him to mention what had happened. </p><p>You heard Dean’s heavy breathing from the doorway and lifted your head from the pillow to look at him. His eyes were soft and filled with concern as he made his way towards you, “Sweetheart,” he whispered as he took a seat at the edge of the bed, near your hip. “Cas told me what happened at work. Are you okay?” </p><p>You gulped, trying to keep it together. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I know it’s not personal, but they were in their 20s... so young. They reminded me of us.” </p><p>All Dean could do was rub your back reassuringly to let you know that he was there and listening to you. He would never get tired of listening to you. “It’s okay to be sad, sweetheart. Those kids got the shit end of the stick.” All you could do was give a weak nod. He continued, “You’re still an amazing nurse, baby. Everyone knows it.” A stray tear fell from your eye and he quickly wiped it with the pad of his thumb, letting his hand cup your cheek. “Don’t think for a second that you’re not good enough.” </p><p>He spent the rest of the evening with you until you dozed off, listening intensely as you told him bits and pieces of what your team tried to do. While he warmed himself up some leftovers for dinner, he decided that he would leave you a note for you to wake up to tomorrow morning before you went to work. He guessed that you’d be needing a little bit of love and encouragement to get through the rest of the week. </p><p>Hi sweetheart, </p><p>Today’s gonna be better than yesterday. Don’t be too sad going in today, ok? You’re so pretty when you smile. I’m sure your patients love it as much as I do. You’re easily the best nurse there, I know it. And if you try to tell me that I don’t know what I’m talking about, then I’ll get Cas to tell you because it can’t shut about how you’re his favorite coworker. You’re so talented, don’t let yesterday get to you too much. I’ll never stop believing in you and what you’re capable of. You’re an amazing nurse, a wonderful wife, a great aunt to Jackson, and you’re such a loyal friend. You’re the smartest woman I know, baby… can’t believe you married my dumbass! I love you so much, sweetheart. Have a good day, ok?</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Sick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You had been throwing up all night and into the morning. It was nearing six now, Dean would be up any minute to get ready for work and you were still hunched over the toilet, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit you. </p><p>The first time that you bolted out of bed in the middle of the night to empty your stomach, Dean was right behind you. He did everything right - held your hair back, rubbed small circles on your back, whispered some reassurances in your ear. How did he anticipate everything you wanted without you even having to utter a word to him? It was endearing, but also slightly infuriating that he knew you so damn well. </p><p>You heard the bathroom door creak open, but you didn’t even have the energy at this point to lift your forehead from the toilet bowl. So instead, you just turned slightly to look at him and huffed when you noticed that his face was full of pity. </p><p>“Still?” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. </p><p>You nodded, “I’ve been up for like an hour already.” </p><p>He pursed his lips together and leaned against the vanity counter, still looking down at you. “What do you want me to do?” He asked, genuinely desperate to hear your answer. </p><p>You shrugged your shoulders, there wasn’t much he could do. You’d only throw up anything you tried to eat or drink and you couldn’t even stomach more medicine without anything in your system. Truthfully, you just wanted him to sweep you off your feet and put you back to bed. You secretly loved it when you were sick, Dean’s protective side came out in full force and you had to admit, it was nice being doted on. </p><p>When you didn’t answer him, he squatted down next to you and brushed the hair out of your eyes, gently tucking it behind your ear. “You want me to stay home?” He whispered. </p><p>Yes! You wanted him to snuggle up next to you and be the one to bring your ginger ale and crackers in a few hours instead of suffering through the day by yourself. You wanted him to give into cuddling you, desperate to hear him mumble, “Only cause you’re sick, sweetheart” as he let you snuggle up to him for hours on end. </p><p>“Ugh, you can’t miss work.” You complained. </p><p>There was no real heat to your complaint, but Dean still looked torn. He absolutely was the type to drop a day of work if someone he loved needed him, and here you were, someone he really, really, loved… absolutely needing him. </p><p>“I’m gonna call in-” </p><p>“Dean!” You groaned. </p><p>“No, you listen to me. I’m not leaving you glued to the bathroom floor all day.” He ran his fingers through your hair, “Think you can make it back to bed?” </p><p>The thought of walking the 20 feet to your bed seemed painful, but sitting on the bathroom floor any longer seemed much worse. You nodded your head and felt Dean support you by your elbow as you hauled yourself to your feet. </p><p>“Ugh,” you groaned, feeling unsteady on your feet. </p><p>“I gotcha, sweetheart.” He mumbled, holding you steady. </p><p>He didn’t carry you to the bed, but once you were there, he got you comfortable by tucking the blankets all around you. He leaned over you and pushed your sweaty strands of hair off your forehead. You gave a weak smile as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. </p><p>He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, “Gonna go call in. I’ll be right back.” </p><p>By the time Dean came back into the room, you were already throwing up into one of the bowls that you had brought back with you in the middle of the night. He looked a little broken at the sight of you hunched over the bowl, “Sweetheart, this ain’t normal.” He kneeled behind you, rubbing your shoulders. “I think we should take you to the doctor.” </p><p>You begrudgingly tried to squirm away from his touch, “No.” </p><p>He shifted so he was facing you, letting his hands drop from your shoulders. “C’mon, get dressed and we’ll go to the walk-in urgent care, okay?” </p><p>The trip to the urgent care proved itself eventful. After making Dean pull over multiple times because you thought you were going to be sick, you two finally made it to the clinic only to have problems with your insurance. After over an hour of waiting, your name was finally called and you made your way into the back. Dean shot up and helped you stand, gently grabbing your elbows to help you balance. </p><p>He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’ll be right here, sweetheart.”  </p><p>After the routine vitals and questions from the nurse, you were now feeling extremely uncomfortable sitting on the exam table, watching your legs dangle as the nurse practitioner entered your information into the computer. She turned to you, “So, nausea? Anything else bothering you other than that?”</p><p>You shook your head, “No. I mean I’ve been pretty tired lately but I think that’s just from working overtime and now this.” </p><p>She eyed you, making a full scan of your body. “Any chance you could be pregnant?” </p><p>You snorted, “No. We’ve been trying for a while, no luck. My last round of IVF just failed.” </p><p>Her face fell as he scrolled through the information on her computer, “Well, when was your last period?” </p><p>Your heart stopped. When was your last period? The IVF had been messing with your cycle, so you weren’t even sure when the last time was. A small smile creeped across her lips as she turned back to you, “Let’s do a pregnancy test and then go from there.” </p><p>You were pregnant. Well, you were about 90% sure that you were pregnant. The urinary test had come back positive, but you were still waiting on the blood work to come back. You were sent away by the nurse practitioner with a big smile, some anti-nausea pills, and a reminder to find an OB. You were grinning like a mad woman as Dean loaded you back into the Impala, “So?” He asked, turning to you before he turned the keys in the ignition. </p><p>“Dean,” you breathed. </p><p>His eyes grew big with worry, making you smile even more. “What?” He asked. You let out a loud throaty laugh, “What, Y/N! Tell me!” He said, shaking your arm. </p><p>You had been debating telling Dean until the results of the bloodwork came back. Every negative test caused both of you so much heartbreak, what if it was all a false positive? Why put him through another round of disappointment until you knew for sure? All of those thoughts were out the window as soon as you saw him. He had to know. You had to tell him, even if you weren’t 100% sure. </p><p>You cupped his cheeks with your hands, turning his head towards you. “I’m pregnant.” </p><p>Time seemed to stand still. He was silent, the only thing filling the car was the heavy breaths of anticipation coming from the both of you. You scanned his face, searching for any sort of emotion, but he looked like he had seen a ghost. </p><p>“What?” He asked, his voice low and grounded. </p><p>You nodded, sniffling, “I’m pregnant. Well at least I think I am, they said that-” </p><p>Your words were broken by a harsh kiss. He frantically pulled you closer, trying to lean into you as far as he could across the seats. When he pulled his head back, he laughed, “Oh my god!” You shook your head and laughed as he kissed you again, “Oh my god!” </p><p>You spotted a tear in the corner of his eye and gave him a soft smile before quickly wiping it away with the pad of your thumb, “The blood test still has to come back, okay? It’s not 100% guaranteed, okay?” You mumbled, trying to prepare him from the idea of all of this being false. </p><p>“Don’t say that,” he shook his head. “Just be happy, okay, sweetheart?” </p><p>You tilted your head to the side and hoped that the look you were giving him conveyed more words than a simple “I love you” ever could. God you loved him so much right now, more than you ever had in your entire life. </p><p>You laughed, “We’re gonna have a baby!” </p><p>“I’m gonna be a dad!” He shouted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. New Years Eve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy new year everyone! Hopefully 2021 is collectively better for all of us. Make sure you set aside time to make some intentions this year. Prioritize yourself :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You lounged a little deeper into Dean, nestling the two of you further into the couch cushions. He didn’t say anything and only pulled you in closer so that you could lean your head against his chest. He nursed his bottle of beer while you traced your finger around the edge of your glass, careful not to spill it on the new blanket that he had gotten you for Christmas. You were both zoned in on the TV in front of you. Some reporter was interviewing a singer that you didn’t recognize, and for the first time in a while you felt old as hell. Here you were, sitting on the couch with your husband on New Years Eve, corny Christmas pajama pants on, sleepy before 12. This was the first New Years Eve that you had ever spent alone. You couldn’t even think of a year that you weren’t out with people or at a party.</p>
<p>“Who is that?” Dean asked, referencing the young guy singing on TV. </p>
<p>You shook your head before taking another sip, “No idea.” </p>
<p>The man jumped around the stage, singing something about living in the moment and being forever young. You let out a bitter laugh, god if he only knew what was to come. </p>
<p>“Forever young? Please,” You huffed. “That kid is probably, what? 19? He doesn’t even know what being old is!” </p>
<p>You felt Dean’s low chuckle against your back as he raised his hand to run his fingers through your hair. You smiled, allowing him to give you a little bit of pampering. As much as you hated the feeling of getting older, you sure were enjoying being able to just sit on the couch with your husband. You were completely serious when you vowed to never spend another New Years Eve in a crowded dive bar. </p>
<p>“Do you remember our first New Years Eve?” You asked out of nowhere, nostalgic for feeling like you were still young and free-spirited. </p>
<p>He groaned and shifted in his seat, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to erase that one from my mind.” </p>
<p>Surprised, you sat up and whipped around to face him, “What’s that supposed to mean?!” You exclaimed, clearly offended that he had such an attitude about that night. </p>
<p>“I think you remember that night a lot differently than I do, sweetheart.” He laughed before taking another swig of beer. “Come to think of it, I don’t think you remember much of that night at all.” </p>
<p>You rolled your eyes, playfully reaching to nudge his cheek. He dodged your hand, instead pressing a messy kiss to the crown of your head. “How could I ever forget the night that we met?” You mumbled. "And the night you kissed another girl!" You laughed, playfully hitting him. </p>
<p>"I was not about to have our first kiss while you were so drunk you could barely stand straight!" He clapped back. You always made fun of him for rejecting you that night, but Dean was right. It was better that he had waited. You were glad your first kiss with him wasn't in that sleezy dive bar. </p>
<p>
  <strong> Lawrence, Kansas. Years ago. Sometime around 11:00 P.M. </strong>
</p>
<p>After some persistent convincing, Sam had finally gotten you to agree to come to Lawrence for New Years Eve so you could see his hometown. You felt that it was time to see his old stomping grounds, you had both been friends for so long. What would your life have been like if you didn’t introduce yourself to that tall gangly looking boy who lived across the hall your freshman year?</p>
<p>You didn’t expect Kansas to be so… boring. It was certainly different from California, that was for sure. You couldn’t get over how the landscape didn’t seem to change, just miles and miles of farmland. For a second, you wished that Sam and Jess would’ve just stayed in California with you and all your other friends for New Years so you could hit all your typical places, but Sam was really adamant on coming home for the holidays, so you complied and agreed to catch a flight. </p>
<p>You glanced around the dive bar that Sam had just ushered you into and locked eyes with an old man dressed head to toe in camouflage. You immediately looked away and felt a warm heat spread across your cheeks. Somehow you felt like everyone could just sense that you weren’t a local. Sam must have sensed your apprehension, because he clapped a warm hand on your back and gave you a reassuring shake, “I know, Y/N.” He smiled, “It’s a little different than California.” </p>
<p>You nodded, taking in the dull and dusty lighting hanging above the pool table. Sam disappeared to grab you and Jess some drinks and you watched as his shoes sort of stuck to the floor as he retreated. You ran your finger over the tacky surface of the high-top table that you and Jess were standing at, grimacing at how truly disgusting this place was. You thought you had seen it all after frequenting your college bars; you were so wrong. </p>
<p>You turned to Jess, “Please don’t tell me this is where Sam brings you when you go home with him.” </p>
<p>She grinned, “He loves it here for some god awful reason. I just let him enjoy it.” </p>
<p>You nodded and smiled at how much she loved Sam. You don’t think that you could ever love someone enough to visit this dump more than once. You scanned the place, marveling at how somewhere like this managed to be surprisingly crowded. </p>
<p>“Jessica!” A voice boomed from behind you. </p>
<p>Startled, you turned around to see one of the hottest guys you had ever seen. You wanted better words to describe him, but your mind was empty just from his presence in the room. He was hot. Plain and simple. What was wrong with calling someone hot? He practically towered over the two of you and the dull lighting was hitting him just right, making his green eyes look almost piercing. There was smug written all over his face as he approached Jess and you honestly felt weak in the knees just at the sight of him. He looked like he was the type to string you along until he shattered your heart. You absolutely wanted him to break your heart. </p>
<p>Jess seemed to light up at the sight of him, laughing as she pulled him into a big hug. “Hi, Dean!” She exclaimed. </p>
<p>Dean. Dean as in Sam’s brother, Dean. Of course! You were back in his hometown and Sam always loved to brag about his brother and his whereabouts. You had seen pictures here and there and had always thought that Dean was attractive, but here he was in the flesh, looking like a damn model. His good looks suddenly made you self-conscious about your own - maybe your shirt was a little too low cut… and did you even check to make sure that lipstick wasn’t on your teeth? Could other people tell that you had to squeeze into your jeans tonight or was that just a you thing? </p>
<p>“Right, Y/N?” </p>
<p>	You blinked at the sound of your name and turned to Jess. She raised her brow as Sam headed to your table, sliding a shot of tequila to you. You raised your brow at him, silently asking if his plan for tonight was to get absolutely fucked. </p>
<p>	“What?” You asked. </p>
<p>	“I was telling him that you said the flight here wasn’t that bad.” She smiled, patting Dean’s shoulder. </p>
<p>	“No, not bad at all.” You coughed. </p>
<p>	Was that all that you could say?! It was like you had suddenly become the most uninteresting person in the span of three minutes. But what were you supposed to say to him? He hadn’t even said a word to you and he already made you nervous, there was no denying it. You couldn’t let anyone know that, though. Especially Sam, he’d never let you live it down if he found out you were desperate to sleep with his older brother. </p>
<p>	“Flights aren’t worth it,” Dean mused. </p>
<p>	“It’s like over 24 hours of driving!” You exclaim, a little too adamantly. </p>
<p>	A small grin creeped across Dean’s lips; fuck he could tell that you were flusterd. “Nah,” he said as he began to back away from your table and towards the bar. “Swear to God, sweetheart. You drive anywhere with me, and I promise you’ll never take another flight in your life.” </p>
<p>	Dean had already disappeared by the time you registered his comment. He was flirting with you, right?! Your eyes darted to Sam, he rolled his eyes at Jess who gave an all-knowing nod like she’d seen him do this exact thing a million times before. </p>
<p>	“Well, obviously you’ve met my brother.” Sam chuckled. You nodded and messed around with the shot glass in front of you. Maybe you’d just need some liquid courage to get you through the night. </p>
<p>Liquid courage had a name and it was tequila. So far, tequila had proved itself to be very useful while you conversed with Dean. After a few shots, you were instantly at ease, letting yourself laugh right along with everyone else. Dean told you a little bit about his job as a mechanic, his favorite diner in Lawrence, bits and pieces of funny stories from his past that you didn’t really understand but still enjoyed nonetheless. He seemed to like what you had to say too, when you mentioned that you were graduating in the Spring with your nursing degree, he was impressed. He also let out a big, bellowing laugh when you told a story about one of Sam’s drunken moments from your freshman year. He had a tough guy act going, but you could tell that he was secretly sweet under all the cockiness and sarcastic remarks. </p>
<p>A few rounds later and after a couple of games of pool, you were feeling good. Better than good. You were feeling confident, hell, even sexy. You wanted to dance. Why didn’t this god damn bar have a dance floor? You slammed another tequila shot back, tasting the remnants of salt and lime on your lips as you watched Sam and Jess cling to one another. All of this couple shit was making you feel lonely, but the tequila would prevent that, and it was calling your name. </p>
<p>	“Fuck,” you yelled. “Can someone get me another shot of tequila?” </p>
<p>	That earned an earnest smile from Dean, who was tipping his own bottle of beer back. You looked at him, desperate to just smash your lips into his and let him have his way with you in the back of his Mustang. It was a Mustang, right? Sam always talked about him driving some classic car. You felt a little old for car sex, but right now, you’d fuck him absolutely anywhere if you had the chance. If you were giving him any sort of code that you wanted to get out of here, Dean wasn’t picking up on it. Grumbling, you reached across the sticky hightop table to steal Sam’s shot, until you felt a strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you backwards. </p>
<p>	“I think you’ve had enough, sweetheart.” Dean whispered in your ear. You pouted and shifted your hips to get out of his hold, but he only tightened his grip on you, keeping you in place. “I’m serious, you’re about to fall over.” He said, deadpan. </p>
<p>	You could only giggle at him. Why was he being so serious? You felt fine! In fact, you felt better than fine; great was a better word to describe how you were feeling. You just wanted to throw another shot back and dance, why was he being so controlling right now? He didn’t even know you!</p>
<p>	“Ten, nine, eight…” You heard the chants of the countdown beginning. </p>
<p>	Sam and Jess turned to one another and you suddenly felt incredibly out of place. Most years when you went out you were able to land somebody to kiss by now, but pining over Dean for the entire night had caused you to ward off anyone else that may have been interested in you. What the fuck were you going to do?! You wanted to kiss someone! </p>
<p>	“Five, four, three…” </p>
<p>	Maybe there was still time to just grab a random guy. Your eyes darted around the room in a fit of madness, but any guy who seemed worthy of kissing already had someone on their arm. You decided to just go for Dean, he was a total tool, he’d totally go for it. You turned to him and grinned. He gave you an apprehensive smile back, like he all of the sudden didn’t want to be standing next to you and it was making your head spin even more than it already was. Did you misjudge your interactions the entire night? </p>
<p>	You extended your arm to him, silently asking for him to pull you in. His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere except for you. You noticed him lock eyes with a cute redhead and before you could blink, he stepped over to her and slid an arm around her waist. </p>
<p>	“One… Happy New Year!” The bar shouted. </p>
<p>	You couldn’t believe your luck. The way he left you, arm extended towards him, two seconds before midnight, was humiliating and infuriating. Were you that undesirable? You scowled as you watched Dean lock lips with the girl. You felt a little melancholy watching everyone turn and kiss their loved ones and the tequila pumping through your body was only strengthening your sadness. If you didn’t distract yourself soon, you were going to turn into an inconsolable mess. </p>
<p>	“Y/N!” Sam shouted, a spring in his step as he made his way towards you. “Happy new year!” He beamed, leaning down to press a friendly kiss to your cheek. You smiled and gave him a tight hug. How did Sam always manage to make you feel better? He looked around the room, “Where’s Dean?” </p>
<p>	You rolled your eyes and threw your head back to him and the redhead. “With whoever that is.” You spat, words more bitter than you intended. </p>
<p>	“What?!” Sam shouted. “I could’ve sworn he was into y-” </p>
<p>	His words were cut short by Jess coming up to the both of you, “Y/N, come to the bathroom with me.” She smiled. </p>
<p>	Sam’s words were spinning through your head as you pushed your way through the bar. He could’ve sworn? Sworn what? About who? Not you and Dean. There was no way. </p>
<p>	As the night went on, it was evident that Dean was the only one who was thinking straight and sober enough to drive everyone home. The three of you piled into the Impala, Sam and Jess still all over each other in the back seat while you rode up front. The ride back seemed to be taking forever and you were growing more restless by the second. You eyed the time on your phone, how was it almost three in the morning? How was Dean even functioning right now? Dean bobbed his head along to the music to distract himself from your moaning and complaining in the front seat. You shook your head at the classic rock blasting in the car. You were not in the mood to listen to classic rock. </p>
<p>You reached over to switch the radio and heard Sam suck in a sharp breath, “Y/N!” He yelped. </p>
<p>	“What?!” You laughed, turning around to look at his horrified face. “I’m just changing the station.” </p>
<p>	Sam gave Dean a look of disbelief as he kept his hands on the wheel, not even giving you a second glance. Dean was letting you, basically a complete stranger, change his music. He didn’t even slap your hand away or make a snide comment. Sam could maybe count the times that Dean let him change the station on a single hand. </p>
<p>	Jess let out a loud cackle, “Oh he is in so deep!” Which caused Dean to throw a pointed look back at her. </p>
<p>	You couldn’t even muster up enough brainpower to try and decode the interaction that had played out in front of you. Instead, you groaned and shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I don’t feel good.” Dean took his eyes off the road for a second to look at you, zeroing in on the pale hue to your skin. </p>
<p>	“Y/N…” Sam mumbled, reaching out to shake your shoulder. “You can’t get sick in here, okay? If there’s like one thing that you're not gonna do, it’s be sick. You can’t-” </p>
<p>	Dean shot his brother a look, “Home in less than 10 minutes, sweetheart.” He glanced over at you again, a look of pure fear washing over his face. </p>
<p>	Sam looked absolutely baffled at Dean’s kindness towards you. “Please don’t get sick.” He mumbled. </p>
<p>You nodded your head, not really comprehending what he just said to you. You pressed your forehead up against the window thinking that the cool glass would help. Wanting to focus on forcing yourself to feel better, you took deep breaths in order to keep everything in your stomach down. They made it known that you can not be sick. </p>
<p>	You felt your stomach churning, knowing what was about to happen. “Pull over,” you mumbled, futsing with your seatbelt, trying to undo it as fast as you could.</p>
<p>	Dean’s head snapped to you, “What?” </p>
<p>	You groaned, “Pull over!” Slightly snapping at him for not understanding what you meant. </p>
<p>	You felt the car start to slow but it was too late, all of tonight’s tequila came up and onto the floor of the front seat. </p>
<p>	“Shit,” Dean quipped. </p>
<p>	“No, no, no, no, no…” Sam mumbled, frantically looking at Dean to see how fast it would take for him to go completely ballistic. </p>
<p>	But he didn’t. </p>
<p>You watched as he jammed his finger to harshly turn off the radio and the four of were enveloped by a heavy silence as he pulled over to the side of the road. Groaning, you opened the door and leaned out of the car, wondering if you were going to be sick again. Your eyes welled with tears as you did your best to concentrate on your breathing. Not only would it be even more humiliating to throw up again, but you didn’t want to cry in front of everyone, especially Dean. You did the one thing that Sam had practically begged you not to do. Now he’d never take you back to Lawrence again and your chances of getting anywhere with Dean were completely gone. </p>
<p>	“Well are you just going to let her sit there?” Jess scolded the boys. </p>
<p>	You heard rustling in the backseat and knew that Jess was climbing out to help you. </p>
<p>“Jess, you’re falling over!” Dean scolded. You heard one of the car doors creak open and then slam shut. Heavy footsteps crunched along the gravel road until you were staring at dark brown work boots beneath you. </p>
<p>“You okay?” He coughed. </p>
<p>	You sniffled and wiped your mouth with your jacket sleeve. “I’m fine,” you snapped. You looked down at the gravel again, silently counting how many seconds it would take for Dean to just walk away. A gentle hand wavered on your shoulder startled you, forcing you to look up at Dean again. </p>
<p>	“It’s okay, Y/N.” He assured you. </p>
<p>	You sniffled and wiped your mouth with your jacket sleeve. “It’s not,” you bitterly laughed. </p>
<p>	“Really, it’s okay.” He gave a tiny smile. “Happens all the time.” </p>
<p>	“That’s a lie.” You smirked, unable to be mad when he was cracking jokes with his hand still on your shoulder. </p>
<p>	He shrugged his shoulders, “Okay, so it doesn’t. We’ll take care of it, okay?” You nodded before falling back against the seat. Dean stood and leaned in to give your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “What a way to start out the new year, huh?” </p>
<p>	All you could do was shake your head at him as he closed your door. You turned to face Sam and Jess who were laughing like maniacs in the backseat. “Have you ever seen Dean be so nice to someone?” Sam yelled, giving you an incredulous look. </p>
<p>	Jess shook her head as the three of you giggled like crazy until Dean slid back into the driver’s seat. You closed your eyes as he started the car up again, determined to make it back without any more mishaps. Sam would eventually tell you that Dean actually lost his mind when you went to bed that night, complaining about your inability to keep it down and how you ruined his passenger seat. Dean would eventually confess to you himself that he had been pissed beyond belief, but there was no way that he’d ever admit to why he kept his cool that night. From the moment he met you, he was head over heels. You were way too good for him, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to try to make you his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Quality Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm like 80 and can't figure out how to tag people, not even sure if it's possible to do so in just chapters, but EmmaChota, this one is for you :) Hope it's something along the lines of what you wanted!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there was one thing in life that you adored more than anything, it was quality time spent with the ones you loved, especially Dean. As long as he was near, you couldn’t care less what you were doing. Even things like stopping at the post office or sitting at the DMV were fun when he was around. It baffled you how he made everything better. </p><p>	It was your first weekend off in a while. After putting in a lot of overtime lately, the long hours had been getting to the both of you. You didn’t even know the last time that you and Dean had a day all to yourselves; there was always something that had to be done. A few weeks ago, he noticed the empty weekend on the tiny calendar you kept on the side of the kitchen fridge and he was determined to surprise you with the most relaxing long weekend that he could manage. He had spent a lot of time researching with Sam and Jess about the perfect place to take you, he could have sworn that he was a qualified travel agent at this point. The research didn’t matter though, even after Dean constantly bothered the two of them for their ideas and input about what you’d like the most, he was met with the same response. </p><p>	<em> “She’s going to love it no matter what you do.” </em></p><p>	Since you were evidently going to love whatever he did for you, he decided to keep it plain and simple. Taking you a few hours away to a tiny cabin was perfect. He wanted you to be able to see the bright colors of late October before everything faded and the world got a little gray for a while. The two of you didn’t vacation often, you had gone to Mexico for your honeymoon and you had driven out West a couple of times to visit old friends from Stanford, but that was it. He was determined to make this a memorable vacation for the two of you. The cozy cabin combined with no cell service would be a slice of heaven for you. He was so committed to the surprise that he didn’t even tell you that you were going away for the weekend. Jess even stopped by while you were at work to pack a bag for you, claiming that she didn’t trust Dean to make the decisions about what you were going to wear. Dean thought she was a smart woman. </p><p>	Giddy as ever, he slid out of bed early on Friday morning and grabbed the bags that he had hid in your shared closet. As he slipped out of his pajamas, he smiled to himself while he watched you sleep. You had no idea what was coming and he was getting antsy; he was desperate to just wake you up already and whisk you away. He carefully sat down on the bed and reached to rub your back. </p><p>	“Y/N,” he whispered while he continued the small circles. You stirred for a second before turning your head to look at him. He chuckled at the confused look on your face. </p><p>	“What time is it?” You mumbled into the pillow. </p><p>	He leaned down to kiss your temple, “Around fiveish.” </p><p>	You groaned and buried your nose back into the pillow, “I’m going back to bed.” </p><p>	Dean gave a low chuckle and decided to lay down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing his chest into your back. “I have a surprise for you,” he mumbled. You gave a small huff as a response and he continued, “We’re gonna go on a vacation, sweetheart.” You flipped on your side to look at him and he let out a loud, bellowing laugh. “That got your attention.” </p><p>	“What do you mean?” You asked, excitement rising up in your chest. </p><p>	“We have a cabin until Sunday night.” He grinned. “Jess packed a bag for you,” he pressed a kiss to your neck,  “I’ve got coffee brewed,” another kiss to your earlobe, “Let’s go.” </p><p>	You had to hold back happy tears as you reached to run your fingers through his hair, “Shut up,” you smirked, not knowing if he was playing some sick prank on you. </p><p>	“Not lying,” he whispered before he pressed another kiss to your neck. “You can sleep in the car. Let’s go.” </p><p>	You slid your arm under him, wrapping him into a tight hug. Nuzzling into him, you grinned against his chest. You couldn’t believe he planned something as big as this! All for you, too! God, you loved him. </p><p>	As if he could read your thoughts, he shrugged beneath your grip, “Yeah, what can I say?” He pulled away to look at you, “I’m a damn good husband!” </p><p>	“Oh please,” you teased, hitting his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.” </p><p>	He shook his head while he grinned at you, “Get your ass moving, sweetheart!” He yelled, giving your ass a playful slap. “We have places to be!” He said, bouncing off of the bed and rushing out of the room. </p><p>	After getting yourself together as quickly as possible, Dean met you in the kitchen with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He gave you a tiny grin as he slid one of the mugs to you, “Ready?” </p><p>	You nodded while you took a sip, “Mhm.” </p><p>	The crisp fall air sent goosebumps across your skin as you stepped outside, closing the front door behind you. You eyed the porch swing and turned back to Dean, mornings like these is what it was made for, right? Giggling, you saunted your way over to the swing and fell into it. </p><p>	Dean huffed, ‘C’mon sweetheart, we don’t have time for this!” He jiggled his keys. </p><p>	You frowned and gave your best puppy dog eyes, Dean could never say no to those. “C’mon,” you laughed, patting the seat next to you. “Sit with me for a second.” </p><p>	He rolled his eyes before giving in and taking a seat next to you. You leaned your back into his chest and his arm found its way around your shoulders. He hummed as you nuzzled further into his neck, “This porch swing was a bitch to build.”</p><p>	You only laughed, his constant complaining wouldn’t fool you. He was loving his moment just as much as you. “Then let’s forget about it and get going,” you said, craning your neck to kiss his cheek. </p><p>	The drive to the cabin was like every other drive with Dean. Classic rock, bad gas station food, and crazy amounts distracted driving whenever he tried to reach over and kiss you. You gasped as the car slowed in the driveway, the cabin in this distance getting closer and closer. It was like a painting had come to life. The tiny brown cabin was surrounded by bright, towering trees of sunset shades. Behind the house, you could just make out a winding path that made its way to a lake. How did he manage to find this place?! </p><p>	“Dean!” You yelled, gripping his arm out of pure excitement. </p><p>	He only smirked as he swung the door open before retreating to the trunk to get your bags. You practically leaped out of the car and shoved Dean out of the way to grab your stuff. </p><p>	“Hey!” He grumbled, pulling your arm back from the trunk. </p><p>	“What?” You teased, giving him a small smirk. </p><p>	“Let’s go for a walk. We can bring this stuff in later.” He smiled. </p><p>	You grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze, “Well c’mon!” </p><p>	As you made your way down the small walking path away from the house, you were surprised that Dean had let you hold onto his hand for this long. He wasn’t the hand-holding type; you figured that being in the middle of the woods was helping him to give up his tough guy act. A cold burst of air whirred past the two of you, expelling the bright Fall leaves into circles around your ankles. You shivered and pulled your sweater tighter around you. Dean was shrugging off his jacket before you even got the chance to utter anything about being cold. </p><p>	“Here,” he mumbled, throwing it around your shoulders. </p><p>	You happily shrugged it on before looking up at him. The two of you paused, falling into a comfortable silence as you both stared at one another. Finally, he broke, a huge grin breaking out across his face. “What?” He laughed. </p><p>	You cocked your head to the side, “What?” You teased. </p><p>	“You look good in my jacket,” he smirked. </p><p>	“This old thing?” You teased, glancing down at the brown leather you were sporting. The jacket was older than your relationship. You had fond memories of him picking you up for dates wearing the thing.</p><p>“That jacket is not old!” He scoffed, pausing to pull you in by the collar. You rolled your eyes, he continued, “Don’t disrespect the threads.” He wiggled his eyebrows when he didn’t get a response from you.</p><p>	You shook your head before grabbing his hand again, lightly grazing your thumb over his knuckles. “You’re an idiot.” </p><p>	“But I’m your idiot,” he beamed. </p><p>You knew that he was getting cold, even though he’d never admit it and refuse his jacket if you offered it back to him, so you decided that it was time to turn around and walk back towards the house. You two just needed to get the blood flowing again after the long drive. There would be plenty of time this weekend for the two of you to keep exploring the paths that surrounded the cabin. </p><p>You swung his arm, “So,” you said, looking up at him. “Did you also plan out our dinner tonight?” </p><p>He laughed, “I was thinking that was a both of us type of activity.” </p><p>“That better not be code for asking me to do all the cooking!” You exclaimed. </p><p>He shook his head no, “Wouldn’t even think of it, sweetheart.” He could see that you weren’t convinced, “We’ll drive into the nearest town and pick some stuff up. Tell you what,” he smiled, “You don’t have to touch a damn thing tonight. Dinner is 100 percent on me.” </p><p>You nodded in agreement and held onto his arm as the two of you made your way back up the path. You couldn’t wait for Dean to surprise you with a nice dinner and hopefully something much, much, more satisfying than dessert.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Baby Bump</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He noticed that you looked bigger. Not that he would ever tell you that, of course. At 14 weeks, the hormones and general fatigue you were feeling were already making you an emotional mess. He did not want to deal with another sob session from you. So he kept his lips zipped when he noticed you hopping into the shower, the small swell of your lower belly poking out. It was there, no denying it. He just wanted to know how long it would take you to notice. </p><p>	You debated between the two dresses that were laid out on your bed, wondering which would be better for the restaurant you were hitting up with Sam and Jess. The pair had begged you and Dean to do a double date night; they had a sitter lined up and everything. You happily agreed, thinking it might be fun to go all out on a fancy evening. Dean on the other hand, wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of putting on an uncomfortable suit and eating a meal that would blow almost a whole day’s worth of work. </p><p>	“Which one?” You asked, waiting for his opinion. </p><p>	Dean sauntered up behind you, his tie hanging loose around his neck. “Hm…” </p><p>	You eyed him up, “Hm, what?” </p><p>	“Nothing, just trying to decide which one’ll be more fun to take off later.” He smirked, reaching down to playfully pinch your ass. </p><p>	You wiggled away from him and gasped, “Stop!” </p><p>	“What?” He smiled, biting his lower lip as he reached to get a hold of your hips. You tried to dodge him, but he managed to slide his arms around your waist, holding you close. </p><p>	Giving up, you melted into his embrace and hummed, “I’m thinking the black one.” </p><p>	“Good choice, sweetheart.” He answered, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning to the full-length of your mirror hanging against your door to finish tying his tie. </p><p>	You slipped out of your robe and shimmied into your dress, feeling smug about how good you always looked when you wore this one. As you situated it on your shoulders, you noticed that it felt a little snug around the midsection and your heart instantly stopped. You had been feeling <em> off </em> the past couple of weeks, constantly scrutinizing every angle of your body. The issue was that you didn’t even think that you looked pregnant, you just looked bloated. You were going to deny these feelings for as long as you could manage, so you shrugged off the worries. </p><p>“Zip me up?” You asked. </p><p>His hands brushed upon your lower back in an instant, sending a small shiver up your spine. How late would you be if you let him kiss you a little more… You waited for him to pat your shoulders and send you away, but noticed that he paused pulling the zipper up. </p><p>	“Why’d you stop?” You huffed, slightly annoyed that he ruined the little fantasy you had begun to play out in your head. </p><p>	“I can’t get it up,” He grunted, tugging harder at the zipper. </p><p>	You snorted, “Yeah, right.” </p><p>	He yanked again; it wasn’t budging. You gave an exasperated huff before shimmying the fabric up around your shoulders, trying to give him some slack fabric to grab. He jerked the zipper up again, but you could feel the tight pull of the fabric around your midsection. There was no way in hell that you were getting this dress zipped up. </p><p>	“You think I’m playing around now?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows at your reflection in the mirror. </p><p>	“What?!” You shrieked, throwing your hands up in the air. </p><p>You knew you were overreacting, you had a whole closet of other things you would wear that weren’t so tight, but your hormonal brain was in full swing, making it seem like this was the end of the world. You turned and examined yourself from the side, scowling at how utterly bloated and puffy you looked. The dress was hugging every imperfection, making you look big and cumbersome. Did Dean notice all this before you? Did he just fail to mention that you looked <em>disgusting </em>? Tugging at the dress, you felt tears prickling behind your eyes. </p><p>Noticing that you were on the verge of losing it, Dean swooped in and threw his arms around your shoulders. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning down to your ear. “It’s just a dress, you look fine.” </p><p>“Fine?!” You yelled, escaping his embrace. In a fit of rage, you tugged the dress off and slid your robe back on.</p><p>“Y/N-” He cooed, trying his best to stay calm and do some damage control.</p><p>It was really no use, though. By the time he even had an idea on what to say, you had already slammed the bathroom door shut. He took an exasperated breath while he ran a hand through his hair. He was all out of ideas. His encouraging words nor his warm touch seemed to help, so what was he supposed to do? Leaving you alone to cry about your changing body seemed cruel, but he didn’t want to push it any further. He decided to ask the one person who somehow always had an answer for everything. </p><p>“Sammy,” he hissed into the phone. </p><p>You listened in with curious ears through the bathroom door, wiping a bit of snot on your robe. </p><p>“She’s acting like a total bitch, man!”<br/>
You scowled. He really just called his wife, the woman carrying his child, a bitch. Rage coursed through your veins as you gripped the countertop until your knuckles were white. Dean had a mouth on him and you were certainly going to pick a fight. </p><p>“Okay, shut up, shut up.” You heard him complain. You smiled at that, knowing that Sam was certainly sticking up for you. He was always your back up when Dean got temperamental. “She’s not a bitch, I’m just saying that I’ve never seen her so moody in my entire life. I’m trying to help her man, but-” He was cut off, probably by Sam’s rambling. </p><p>It was quiet for a few seconds and you held your breath as you waited for Dean to say something. You wanted to go out there and start a fight, ready to tell him that you weren’t overreacting and that you deserved to feel the way you did about your body. You were feeling disgusted and completely overwhelmed by your body. You didn’t even want to go to dinner anymore, all you’d be able to think about was how uncomfortable you were feeling. </p><p>“That worked for you?” His words piqued your interest. What worked for Sam? You wished that Dean would’ve just put the damn phone on speaker. There was more silence for a second until you heard him clear his throat, “Alright, okay, okay. Yeah, I think that’s the right call for tonight.” </p><p>What the hell was the right call for tonight? Now he was making decisions without you? The rational part of you knew it was just a call on dinner, but you were seething. Taking a deep breath, you decided to head back into the bedroom, ready to yell, until Dean swung open the bathroom door. He stood still and silent, taking in every bit of you. You opened your mouth to make a snappy comment, but were distracted by him throwing his arms around your waist. He drew you into his chest and warmly rubbed his hands up and down your back. In that moment, it was like he magically flipped a switch within you. You were an absolute sucker for Dean taking charge when it came to physical affection, of course he had known that there was no way you’d be mad if he was holding you like this. </p><p>	His right hand crept towards your belly and you held your breath as he laid his palm flat across the tiny bump. “C’mon sweetheart, you can’t think that you look bad right now.” He whispered, staring down at the belly in awe. </p><p>	“I look bloated,” you grumbled, looking up to meet his eyes. </p><p>	“You look pregnant.” He bluntly stated, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. </p><p>	You shook your head and looked down, placing both hands on the side of your belly to accentuate it. Dean was sporting a full grin as he laid his hands over yours, almost as if he was protecting the two of you. “C’mon, you look kinda hot.” He sheepishly smiled. </p><p>	You quirked a brow at him, “So you’re into this?” </p><p>	He shrugged, rubbing his hand at the top of your belly, “Is it a crime to be into my pregnant wife?” </p><p>	He finally got you to let out a laugh at that one. Feeling smug with himself, Dean slowly fell back and took a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling you down to straddle his lap. You pressed fluttery kisses to his neck, “I’m sorry,” you managed to mumble in between them. </p><p>	His hands tugged your hips closer, “Don’t say sorry.” You relaxed into his touch as he ran his hands up and down your sides. “You look smokin’ hot.” </p><p>	You could feel yourself blushing at Dean’s words and he knew exactly what he was doing to you. You wanted to let him have his way with you, but after your outburst, you guys were already running late for dinner. He ran his hands over your thighs and gave a soft moan when you nibbled at an extra sensitive spot under his ear. </p><p>	“We’re gonna be late,” you breathed, pulling back from his neck. </p><p>	“We’re not going anymore,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear. </p><p>	You pulled away, eying him quizzically. You hoped that his phone call with Sam didn’t result in them canceling tonight. Even though you weren’t up to going, you didn’t want to upset Sam and Jess; they’d been looking forward to this all week. </p><p>	“Sammy said we can do it another night,” he continued. You frowned, feeling upset that you were the cause of the canceled plans. Dean caught your frown and cupped your cheek, “You gotta calm down sweetheart, they said it’s fine.” </p><p>	“Stop airing our business to Sam,” you grumbled. </p><p>	Sam had practically been a brother before you and Dean even got together, but something about Dean calling Sam was making you feel embarrassed. Deep down, the rational part of you knew that Sam didn’t care; he’d never say or do anything to make you uncomfortable. But you wanted your pregnancy to be private, the constant stress of growing a baby after your infertility issues loomed over you 24/7. You didn’t want anyone else to know about the ins and outs of how you were feeling except for Dean and your doctor. </p><p>	Dean sensed your anxiety and carefully shifted, grabbing a pillow from behind him before gently laying you down on the bed. “You really wanna talk about Sammy right now?” He asked, eyeing you incredulously as he leaned over you and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, “You’re so strung out, sweetheart.” He mumbled, lips grazing your jaw. </p><p>	You nodded, shivering underneath his touch. He was right, the last couple of weeks, you couldn’t calm down for the life of you. He gently tugged your nipple with his teeth, sending a jolt of adrenaline through your body. Letting out a breathy moan, you desperately clung to his biceps, silently telling him to continue. He sent tiny kisses along your body as he made his way down to your belly. He paused there for a second and you propped yourself up onto your forearms to watch him. </p><p>	A tender hand made its way back to your bump and he smiled before leaning down to press a kiss just below the curve. You had to hold it together, but watching Dean fawn over you like this was sending your emotions into a frenzy. Noticing your labored breathing, Dean reached for your hand and locked his fingers with you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. </p><p>	“So sexy,” he mumbled, lowering his head. You gasped as you felt his tongue tease your clit, “Let’s see if we can get to you relax, mhm?” He questioned, raising his head to give you a flirtatious wink.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Cravings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the most part, you had been pretty tolerable throughout your pregnancy. The first trimester had easily been the worst; your morning sickness was so severe it landed you in the emergency room one time to get fluids and there was a whole week where you ate nothing but saltine crackers and gatorade. However, as you eased into your second trimester, it was like someone flipped a magical switch and you were a completely different person. Gone were the days of being bent over the toilet, the raging hormones had seemed to calm down, and you were feeling much, much better. You could actually handle going on light runs with Sam during the week and you weren’t throwing up every single meal you ate. Even though you felt a little big and cumbersome, you were glowing. Your hair and skin had never looked better and you silently thanked the universe that something good (other than the baby, of course) was coming out of your pregnancy. </p>
<p>	Your newfound appetite had you vowing to eat as healthy as you possibly could. You certainly relied on Jess and Sam to send you meal ideas rather than your husband, but even Dean admitted to liking some of the ultra-green, pregnancy-boosting, vegan food you were making. You were great at staying on track with the diet until the cravings hit. During your first trimester, you were too nauseous to really give into them, but as the nausea eased up, you began to give in to what “the baby” wanted. </p>
<p>	First, it was watermelon with heaping amounts of salt. </p>
<p>	<em> “Please, baby.” You moaned, reaching out to grab at Dean’s arm desperately. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>	He scrunched his nose, “That sounds disgusting, Y/N.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	You shook your head, “I need it!” You begged, on the verge of a full-blown sob session if Dean didn’t buck up and go to the store for you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	“It’s the end of October,” he grumbled, “Where the hell am I supposed to find a watermelon?” </em>
</p>
<p>	Then it was burgers. Dean was really into helping you with that one.</p>
<p>	<em> “Oh thank god!” You breathed, pulling the greasy fast food bag straight out of Dean’s grip. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>	He settled into the couch next to you, “I was gone for less than 15 minutes!” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	You dug into your burger and moaned as you took a bite, “Fuck, this is exactly what I wanted.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	He laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Alright, pay up.” Reaching for the bag from your lap, you swatted his hand away. “What? You’re not gonna give me mine?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	You shrugged, a tiny smile creeping across your lips “I don’t know, I might need both.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	Dean knew better to crack a joke about you needing both. The last time he made a comment about the amount of food on your plate, you didn’t let him touch you for two days. He only rolled his eyes as he threw an arm around your shoulders, hoping that you’d come around to sharing eventually. You finished off your burger and grinned, gently rubbing your belly. “The baby’s really happy now,” you teased.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Is that right?” He smirked. </em>
</p>
<p>	Now? Now it was Bomb Pops; the fruity red, white, and blue popsicles that you could only get around the 4th of July. Of course you were desperate for Bomb Pops in November. None of the grocery stores in the area carried them, causing you to almost pull your hair out. Dean had tried everything, bringing home strawberry popsicles one day thinking that they’d be similar enough. He was so wrong. </p>
<p>	The cravings were in full-force tonight as you laid in bed, grumbling as you shimmied your back up against your pregnancy pillow to try and get comfortable. Dean complained about that pillow more than anything else, claiming it was a <em> ‘Damn cock clock’ </em>. He wasn’t wrong, the pillow was an absolute god send for you; you practically cried when Jess handed it over to you - it did block Dean from making a move most nights. You know that he secretly missed cuddling up to you. </p>
<p>	You flipped to face him, wincing at the pain shooting through your back. “Dean,” you hissed, reaching over the pillow to gently shake his arm. </p>
<p>	He stirred in his sleep for a second, grumbling as you continued to shake him. He always looked so dopey when he woke up from sleeping, you giggled at the confused look on his face. “Mhm,” he grumbled, rubbing his eye. “What time is it?” </p>
<p>	“You don’t wanna know,” you admitted. You felt bad for waking him up at 2:30, you really did. But the Bomb Pops were calling your name and they couldn’t wait. He had to try and get them for you. </p>
<p>	“What do you want?” He groaned. </p>
<p>	“Can you please look for the Bomb Pops again?” You whined, rubbing his arm lovingly to try and distract him from your ridiculous request. </p>
<p>	He sighed, “Sweetheart, I’ve already looked everywhere.” </p>
<p>	“Baby…” You moaned, stretching to run your thumb across his jaw. </p>
<p>	“They don’t have them anywhere!” He complained, reaching out to lay a hand on your belly. </p>
<p>	You sighed, feeling content for a second with him giving some attention to the baby. Searching his face for any indication that he might be up for making an impromptu trip tonight, you bit your lip in anticipation. Catching your hopeful puppy dog eyes, he patted your bump before rolling out of bed. “You’re so lucky that you’ve got me whipped.” </p>
<p>	Knowing that was code for <em> ‘You’re so lucky that I love you’ </em>, you smiled as you cuddled your pillow, “I love you.” </p>
<p>	Rolling his eyes, he shrugged on some jeans and looked back at you, “I’ll be back soon, okay?” </p>
<p>	You nodded and laid back down, allowing yourself to be swallowed by your comfy bedding. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling on your phone for a while, but when Dean had been gone for more than 20 minutes, you slowly dozed off, figuring that he had no luck finding them. </p>
<p>	You were woken up by a freezing tingle on your neck. Jolting awake, you let out a surprised gasp at Dean towering over you. Taking a second to absorb your surroundings, you realized that he had a popsicle pressed to your neck. Grumbling, you grabbed it from him, noticing that the shape was different than the strawberry ones he brought home last time. </p>
<p>	“Shut up!” You said, sitting up as fast as you could. </p>
<p>	He laughed before stepping away to pull off his jeans. Sure enough, the red, white, and blue was blaring as you took it out of the wrapper. You moaned as you gave the popsicle a quick lick, swearing that in this moment, this treat would be better than any sex you’ve ever had. </p>
<p>He gave you a bemused look as he tumbled back into bed next to you, “Good?” </p>
<p>You let out a loud, hearty laugh. “You could say that!” </p>
<p>Beaming at the sight of you so happy, he leaned over the pregnancy pillow cock blocker to steal a quick kiss. “Alright, let me try.” He quipped, motioning for you to let him have a lick. </p>
<p>You turned it over to him, giving him a small taste. “Where’d you find them?” </p>
<p>He shook his head, “You don’t wanna know.” </p>
<p>You felt horrible for sending him on a hunt in the middle of the night, but he never really seemed to be bothered by any of your ridiculous requests so far. Dean would always follow through for his family, no matter what it was. So if it meant going out into the middle of the night to get you seasonal popsicles, he’d try his damn best for you. </p>
<p>As you finished off the popsicle, you sighed before wiggling out of the pillow. You decided that cuddling up to him for a while was absolutely in order, even if it meant that your back would be screaming at you tomorrow. What you didn’t expect to see was Dean already passed out on his back, his light snores filling the room. His head had barely hit the pillow before he had fallen asleep again. You smiled to yourself at the sight of your husband, deciding that you’d still love up on him, even if he wasn’t awake for it. </p>
<p>Leaning over him, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” you mumbled, before pressing your back against his side. <br/>You nestled into him and shoved a pillow in between your legs; the makeshift pregnancy pillow would have to do for now. Grabbing his limp arm, you draped it over your widened hip, letting his hand fall over your belly. You held your hand against his, relaxing into his touch as your breathing slowly synced with his, sleep overtaking the both of you. </p>
<p>	When you woke up in the morning, Dean was already up and out of bed. You felt your pregnancy pillow shoved up against your back and smiled to yourself, knowing that Dean must have tried to move it back in place for you while you were sleeping. Grabbing your phone, you noticed a text from Jess. </p>
<p>	<em>‘Your husband loves you A LOT!!’ </em></p>
<p>	<em>‘??’ </em> You replied. </p>
<p>	Her reply was almost instantaneous, <em> ‘Sam woke up to a dozen texts about his adventure for Bomb Pops last night. lol!’ </em></p>
<p>	You laughed before responding, <em> ‘I needed them!! Can’t believe he actually found them.’ </em></p>
<p>	<em> ‘Did he tell you that he drove an hour for them?’ </em></p>
<p>	You knew that he had been gone for a long time last night, but your groggy brain didn’t register that it had been over two hours by the time he got back. A large ball in your throat seemed to appear and you tried blinking a few times to avoid tears, but it was no use. He loved you so, so, much. As the tears began to roll down your cheeks, you let out a laugh in between a particularly loud sob. You heard heavy footsteps rush down the hall and were met with a worried look on Dean’s face as he entered the room. </p>
<p>	“Could hear you crying from the damn kitchen, Y/N!” He shouted, racing towards the bed. “What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>	You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you smiled at him. He cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding the reason for the tears if you were smiling like a maniac at him. </p>
<p>	“You didn’t tell me how long you drove for the popsicles,” you laughed, still wiping the tears that could just not stop falling. </p>
<p>	His face softened at that, “Jess is a damn gossip, isn’t she?” He joked, crawling towards you from the end of the bed. “Told both of them to keep their mouths shut.” </p>
<p>	Propping yourself up against the headboard, you reached toward him. “Next time I’m craving something, just tell me no, okay?” You laughed, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. </p>
<p>	“Yeah, well,” he smiled, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Hopefully the next time it’s something like Pringles. Pretty sure I can get those suckers anywhere.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Skin to Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Hang in there, sweetheart.” Dean whispered, rubbing the back of your neck. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	You could barely hear what he said, too focused on the pain pulsating through your body. Everyone was telling you to keep breathing, for what?! Breathing was not helping, damn it. You wondered if you could get another round of painkillers, something, anything, to help. The room was overwhelming. God it felt hot. It was hot in the room, right? Sounds of the midwife and nurses barking orders back and forth was making your ears ring and you couldn’t concentrate on anything anyone was saying to you. Someone was telling you to let your knees fall, weren’t your legs open wide enough? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	Giving Dean a weary glance, you wondered if he really understood how exhausted you were. You had been at this for over twelve hours and it honestly felt like your body was going to give out on you soon. You blinked back some tears, not the first ones by any means, but realized that you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Fuck, you were tried. And frustrated. Tired and frustrated. You didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but you were ready to give up. Your legs were numb from the epidural, your head was pounding, and it still felt like someone was applying so much pressure to your pelvis you thought you were going to burst. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	Dean must’ve sensed that you were slipping into dangerous territory, because he turned your cheek towards him and brushed the sweaty hair off your forehead as you leaned into the pillows. “Hey,” he mumbled, the pad of his thumb brushing a few stray tears away. “I’m here.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	Hearing Dean say “I’m here” normally grounded you. You loved hearing those words whether he was holding you as you cried or if he was yelling as he walked in through the door from a day at work. He was always there for you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	“I-I can’t do this anymore!” You choked out between a sob, squeezing Dean’s arm with such force that he winced. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He pressed his forehead to your warm one and whispered, “You’re almost there...” You whimpered, but he rubbed his nose against yours as a reassuring gesture. “Doing so good, sweetheart.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Alright it’s go time!” Your midwife smiled. “Give us a big push on the next contraction, Y/N. Dad, grab her other leg for me.” </em>
</p>
<p>	Eleanor Mary Winchester was born at 10:23 p.m. weighing only 7lbs, 2oz. 18 inches long. She came out with a full head of Dean’s sandy hair and she was lucky enough to inherit those gorgeous green eyes of his. She was absolutely beautiful. You both were certain that she’d be a stunner.  </p>
<p>	It was nearing one in the morning now and you had finally gotten cleaned up and put together as much as you could. Dean made all the calls, first to Sam and Jess, then to your parents, then to Bobby. Texts were sent to your coworkers and friends, with some of the nurses promising to pop in tomorrow to say a quick hello. He absolutely beamed as he bragged to everyone about his family, forcing you to pose for more than one picture even though you looked like a disaster. </p>
<p>
  <em>“Please, Dean.” You whined, rubbing Ella’s back as she rested on your chest. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	His phone wavered in front of your face, “One more, sweetheart.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	“I look like a wreck!” You laughed, “Plus, you already have a load of pictures.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>	He shook his head, unsatisfied with your complaints. He would never understand how you, his strong and beautiful wife, could think that she looked like crap after she had just given him the best thing in his life. He was going to snap enough pictures of the two of you to last him a damn lifetime, and Ella wasn’t even a day old. </em>
</p>
<p> A nurse had visited about an hour ago to walk you through the breastfeeding process and you felt 100 percent better knowing that you had gotten Ella to latch on. Dean was right by your side the whole time, gently rubbing Ella’s tiny arm with one of his fingers while she tried nursing. <em>‘She’s a champ!’</em> He had smiled so big, like her latching on was the equivalent to watching her score a winning goal. You had a feeling that Dean was always going to think Ella was the champion of whatever she did. Dean’s pride ran so deep for his family. </p>
<p>	You could barely keep your eyes open, but you wanted Ella to have some more skin-to-skin contact. When the nurse suggested that they set Dean up in the glider chair with her, he smiled so big you were afraid that his face would stick like that. You cradled Ella as you watched Dean lose his shirt, chuckling at the nurse who completely ogled him. </p>
<p>	She turned to you and smiled, “You are one lucky woman. Beautiful baby and a beautiful husband!” </p>
<p>	You nodded your head while Dean just laughed, “Alright sweetheart, hand over the goods.” </p>
<p>	Shaking your head out of embarrassment at your husband’s chessy request, you handed Ella off to the nurse who gently transported her straight into Dean’s arms. You watched as she gently lowered her onto Dean’s chest, instructing him to lean back and cup one hand on her back and the other under her bottom. Dean took everything she was saying into consideration like it was the most important information in the world, which granted, it was. </p>
<p>She placed a small patterned blanket across his chest and her back before patting his shoulder, “You’ve got this, Dad. Just holler if anyone needs anything.” </p>
<p>	You both thanked her and then smiled at each other as she left the room. Leaning back into your pillow, you watched your husband slowly glide back and forth in the chair with her, the repetitive motions almost lulling you to sleep. He looked down at her like they were the only two people in the world and your heart couldn’t take it, it was swelling to new proportions watching your husband cherish your daughter in such a special and intimate way. </p>
<p>	He had honestly spent most of the time since she was born crying, even though he’d rather die than admit it. First, he let a few tears spill during the final stages of labor, encouraging you to keep your cool as you brought your daughter into the world. Next, he let a few tears of love and pure admiration fall as he held his daughter for the first time, feeling completely overwhelmed by the fact that he was now responsible for the most perfect baby he had ever seen. He even teared up when he watched you learn how to nurse, furiously wiping away his tears when you gently teased him about it, saying that he had the right to cry about being so damn proud of his wife. That line really won over the staff working on the floor, with all of the nurses complimenting Dean on how he was such a great husband and daddy. </p>
<p>	Daddy. God, Dean was a daddy now. You were a mommy. You and Dean were parents. It was as if all the tears, the negative tests, and the failed rounds of IVF didn’t matter as soon as Ella was in your arms. So what if you were thousands of dollars in debt over the damn treatments?! Who cared! She was here and healthy, what else could you have asked for? You were pulled out of your little trance when you heard Dean mumbling to Ella. </p>
<p>	“Hi baby girl,” He gave a teary laugh. She whined for a second and he chuckled, “Daddy’s here, honey. Daddy’s here… Your mommy and I are gonna take such good care of you. We love you so much… so much.” He whispered, leaning down to peck the top of her head. “Daddy’s always gonna be here.” </p>
<p>	You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. Watching Dean talk to your little girl was sending your post-birth hormones into overdrive. In this moment, you could not have loved your husband more. </p>
<p>He looked up at you with tears in his eyes, “I love you,” he shakily breathed. </p>
<p>There had been a lot of ‘I love you’s’ today. You would never get tired of hearing those words from him. Letting your head fall back into the pillow, you took in this moment of your husband telling you he loved you with your newborn baby in his arms. </p>
<p>“I love you, too.” You smiled.</p>
<p>He shook his head and laughed through a trembling breath, “Damn it, Y/N. I’m a dad.” </p>
<p>You smiled and took a sip of your water, “You are, baby…” You paused, watching him cradle her like nothing could ever pull the pair apart. God, he was going to make her such a daddy’s girl. </p>
<p>He suddenly stopped rocking and slowly rose to his feet, carefully bouncing Ella for a second before making his way to you. </p>
<p>You raised a brow at him, “What are you doing?” </p>
<p>He motioned with his head for you to move your covers over so you could let him in, “Getting into bed with my beautiful baby girl and my gorgeous wife.” </p>
<p>Slowly lifting your hips to shift over, you laughed at his persistence. You winched, feeling the effects of the birth, but decided to push the pain away in order to enjoy this moment with your family. Dean slotted next to you, giving you as much of the bed as he could. You leaned onto his shoulder and looked at Ella, her cheek still pressed into Dean’s bare chest. Dean leaned over to press a sloppy kiss to your temple before rubbing his hand along Ella’s back. You smiled gently as you rubbed your hand along his thigh.</p>
<p>	“My girls,” he smiled, looking up from Ella to meet your eyes. “My beautiful, beautiful girls.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Sam</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thought it would be fun to write about Sam :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the time that the two of you met, everyone always assumed that you and Sam would’ve ended up together. Really, you were sort of a perfect pair. If “perfect pairs” really even existed, that is. Ever since you had met, you couldn’t imagine your life without Sam. You two were practically glued at the hip from the time you had met as freshman in college. </p><p>	<em>You stepped onto your tiptoes, grunting as you tried to shove a box onto the top shelf of your closet. An arm appeared out of nowhere behind you, shoving the box back with ease. Shocked, you turned around and were face to face with one of the tallest, gangliest looking kids you had ever seen. He gave you a big dopey smile and you couldn’t help but grin back. </em></p><p>
  <em>	“It looked like you needed some help,” he said, brushing his hair off of his face. “Sorry I sort of barged in from the hallway.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Thanks,” you laughed, “Everyone leaves their doors open anyways.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	He nodded at your comment and bit his lip, almost like he was wondering what to say next. The two of you stood silently for a second, the air thick and heavy around the both of you. He was cute, there was no denying it, but somehow on that freshman move in day, you knew that he was never meant to be your boyfriend. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I’m, Y/N.” You smiled, playing with the bottom of your t-shirt. You weren’t supposed to shake his hand or something were you? What did college kids do when they met each other? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Sam,” he beamed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You nodded your head. Sam. He looked like a Sam. More awkward silence. You laughed, breaking the uncomfortable moment between the two of you. “So what floor are you on?” You asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	He threw his thumb over his back, gesturing to the room right across from yours. You grinned, suddenly feeling hopeful for the friendship that was playing out in front of you. In anyone else’s story, this would have been the moment that you fell for him before you even knew it, the start of something new and exciting. And in a way, you sort of did fall for Sam, but not in the way that most people do. As time went on, you fell absolutely in love with him as your best friend. </em>
</p><p>	You and Sam had a lot of firsts together. Both such goodie goodies in high school, college seemed like the perfect time for the both of you to rebel. You were both moody teenagers, somehow angry at the world when really the world hadn’t even left its mark on you yet. He was the first person who dragged you to a frat party. The first person you ever smoked a blunt with. The first person who ever dared you into smoking a cigarette after a night of drinking. The first person you… almost… had sex with. </p><p>	During your sophomore year of college, you thought that you liked him. Liked him, liked him, that is. The two of you were confused at your close relationship, mistaking platonic intimacy for romantic attraction. So the playful shoves and the winks and the hugs seemed flirtatious and completely overwhelming. You remember the night like it was yesterday, although sometimes you wished that your mind would just file the embarrassing moment away. </p><p>	<em>Your heart was beating a hundred miles a minute as he laid you on his bed, hands feverishly running up and down your sides. His breaths were heavy and ragged as he tugged your top off, harshly throwing it across the room. You had a feeling that he had done this before, but you couldn’t let yourself enjoy the half-naked boy with the sweet smile towering over you. You shivered at the cool air hitting your skin, suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. Sam was a good guy. You liked Sam. Sam was your best friend. You wanted this. You did want this? Didn’t you? </em></p><p>
  <em>	“Sam,” you whispered, hands traveling up to his chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	He pulled back and stared down at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. You secretly hoped that he was thinking the same thing as you. Dragging your hand up to his face, you pushed his messy hair out of his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I can’t do this,” you mumbled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Deep down you knew that something had felt off from the moment you kissed each other. You were both stupid drunk and acting on rash decisions. Something about having sex with Sam wasn’t right, like it was never supposed to be in the cards for the two of you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The air seemed dense. It was like your body was suddenly aware of every sense in the room. The weight of Sam pressing down on your abdomen, the sticky feeling of sweat on the back of your legs, the warmth of his breath just hitting the edge of your neck. It should have been hot, sensual even. It was anything but. Sam searched your eyes for a second before shaking his head, almost like he was pulling himself out of a trance. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Me either,” he breathed, almost like a breath of relief. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was like someone had taken an entire brick off of your chest as you heard him utter those words. You squirmed underneath him, hoping that he’d get off of you. Getting the message, he immediately rolled off of you and tossed you a throw blanket from his bed. It was quite a sight to see, you wrapped up in an old Kansas City Chiefs blanket with your lace bra straps sticking out while Sam sat stiff in his boxers. You didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if he had gotten your underwear off or if you had seen him completely naked; it made you dizzy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, not even able to look him in the eyes at this point. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You saw him shake his head out of the corner of your eye, “It’s okay, Y/N.” You gave him a doubtful look, but he continued, “Really.” You shook your head, still not convinced. “I thought you wanted me to keep going,” he mumbled. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Oh god, he thought that you wanted this?! Your cheeks were heating up by the second, “I thought you wanted it!” You exclaimed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	The two of you stopped for a second. A tiny grin spread across his lips and before you knew it, he let out a loud, bellowing laugh. Your own laughter bubbled up inside you and you were both giggling on the bed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Don’t take this the wrong way” he laughed, pausing to catch his breath. “But I never want to kiss you again.” </em>
</p><p><em>	You snorted, “Put some pants on!”</em> </p><p>	You were convinced that if you and Sam could come out of a sexual misunderstanding laughing, you could make it through anything. The two of you cared about each other so much, but you knew that Sam cared about everyone he met. He was the type of guy who gave his professors pity laughs when their jokes flopped in class. The guy who would rather die than try and reject one of the nice girls in his class who had asked him out. The guy who would take charge in group projects and make sure that everyone was okay with the work that they had been assigned, constantly asking if anyone needed any help. </p><p>	His tall presence, goofy smile, and caring personality seemed to make every girl he met fall head over heels for him. Hell, you almost even fell victim to his secret charm! For the most part, Sam was too shy to really ever let any girl in. He had slept around with girls here and there, always recounting how dirty he felt afterwards because <em>‘There just wasn’t like a real connection, you know?’.</em></p><p>	That all changed when he met Jess. You remembered him being so distant, constantly canceling plans for undisclosed reasons, leaving early when all of your friends were hanging out… it used to infuriate you. Sam wasn’t your boyfriend, you were well aware. You didn’t want him to be your boyfriend, but he was your person. Sure you had other close friends and family, but before Dean came barreling into your life, you figured that no one would ever get you in the way that Sam seemed to. You had a sneaking suspicion that he had found himself a new “person”, as if someone couldn’t have more than one, but it was absolutely breaking your heart. </p><p>	<em>He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he greeted you, carrying himself like there was nothing that you could possibly do to to wipe the stupid grin off his face. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn it looked like he was in love. </em></p><p>
  <em>	“Hi,” you mumbled, doing your best to put on a fake smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Evidently, he couldn’t see through it, so he fell back into your couch with a loud thud. You took a seat next to him, crossing your legs so you could face him. It looked like excitement was bubbling up within him as he shook his leg. . </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“So…” you mumbled, wondering what the hell he was going to say. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I met someone, her name’s Jess, I think I might even love her, and I’ve only known her for three weeks!” He said all in one breath, smiling so big his eyes were almost non existent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Your heart sank, feeling upset that he confirmed your theory. You didn’t want to be jealous, but you somehow were of this mystery Jess girl. Would she be okay with your friendship with Sam? Did this mean that Sam would completely leave you in the dust? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Sam,” you mumbled, reaching to take a sip of your beer. Lord knows that you were going to need more than one tonight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“She wants to meet you!” He interrupted, reaching for your hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“What? Why?” You asked defensively, feeling even more insecure and unsure of yourself than you already had been. Why would she want to meet you? Everyone knows that the girl best friends somehow cause all the problems. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Because you’re my best friend and I’ve told her all about you!” He shook his head, acting like you just asked the dumbest question ever. “I think you guys are going to get along!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	For a split second, you felt yourself smile. He told her about you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I know you’re jealous, Y/N.” Sam bluntly stated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“What? That’s ridiculous!” You forcefully laughed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I know you. Nothing’s really gonna change. As long as you get used to the idea of Jess tagging along.” He reassured you, giving your hand a tight squeeze.</em>
</p><p>	Sam somehow always knew how to reassure you. He could read you like a book, sometimes better than Dean, which was both infuriating and endearing. Always there to make you smile, Sam knew the things that instantaneously changed your mood. A cup of expensive coffee could help you chill out after failed exams in college or stressful work days. A drive with no words exchanged, just the music softly playing would always work if your friends were pissing you off. A day dedicated to laundry was in order when you complained about feeling stressed, him knowing that you always felt better if you at least had clean laundry. </p><p>	Maybe in another life, Sam would have been the one. But in this life, your life, you knew that no one would ever come close to Dean. Yeah, Sam knew that you liked coffee when you were cranky, but only Dean knew that it was specifically French vanilla flavored or bust. Sam knew that you liked to sleep in, but only Dean knew that you only wanted to sleep until 9:30, otherwise you felt like you were wasting your day away. Sam knew that a good, strong, hug would be the solution to get your tears to stop falling, but only Dean could hold you in way with his tight embrace that would make you feel completely enveloped in protection. </p><p>	Dean always told you that he was so lucky that you and Sammy got along so well. Of course, you always had to playfully remind him that Sam had come first, but Dean didn’t like that very much. Your life would have looked very different without Sam in it. So many memories of your undergrad would have been different. You wouldn’t have ever met Dean in that sleazy bar on New Years Eve. Dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ never seemed productive. Instead, you liked to thank the universe for sending Sam Winchester to live across the hall from you when you were 18. Who knows where you would be without him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. California Dreamin'</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little backstory on the early days of your relationship :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first couple of years after you had graduated college, you didn’t exactly know what to do with yourself. It sort of felt like life was moving along without you and you were just planted in one spot. It didn’t feel like you were moving forward, instead, you were just wandering aimlessly. A million questions ran through your mind, making your question your every move. Did you truly enjoy your job or should you be searching for a position that was more fulfilling? Did you really want to go get your master’s degree or were you just being conditioned to think you did? And what was up with everyone getting married? Sam and Jess were already engaged while you and Dean had just <em>barely</em> managed to utter <em>‘I love you’</em> to each other without going into cardiac arrest. If you had to hang up one more save the date on your fridge, you were just going to force Dean to get down on one knee solely so you could fit in with all your friends. Looking at everyone else’s seemingly picture perfect lives made it feel like you had no prospects. Dean either had to get his ass to California or you needed to move to Kansas. Both of you had been too stubborn to choose who should completely uproot their life, though. </p><p>	To you, everything was in California, figuratively and literally. You loved your job at the hospital, even though it drained the living hell out of you. You adored going to breakfast and drinking mimosas with your coworkers at seven a.m. after a rough night shift. The beach was just a day trip away. Your favorite coffee shop was less than two blocks from you and they served the best pistachio muffins. But most importantly, Sam was in California. How were you supposed to manage without him? Who were you going to bother when you wanted to go running? Dean didn’t run. Who else would watch documentaries about human rights activists with you? Dean’s idea of entertainment was Monday Night Football. You loved Dean despite your differences, because of your differences even, but who was going to fill Sam’s shoes if you moved to Kansas? </p><p>	After your initial meeting, you still had a semester left of school all the way in California while Dean stayed in Kansas. You remembered how absolutely floored Sam was when you had let it slip that you and Dean were still talking to each other, weeks after you had first met. He was intoxicating, so much so that the thought of dropping everything and flying to Kansas had crossed your mind more than once. And after Dean had used visiting Sammy as an excuse to come and visit you in California for the first time? It was game over. You were completely locked in and infatuated with him. </p><p>	As time passed by, long distance had been hard on both of you. It was difficult and frustrating really getting to know him over the phone. There were so many conversations that you wanted to have face to face. You wished you could’ve held his hand when he sort of let you in on miniscule details about his relationship with his dad. You wanted to see him crack a smile when you made a joke. You were desperate for him to give you a body crushing hug when you had a bad day. There were so many nights where you laid sprawled out across your bed, the phone on speaker, while you imagined sitting across from him in a restaurant, having a normal date like normal people. </p><p>	You constantly questioned if it was even worth putting in the effort since you two maybe saw each other once every few months. He was four years older than you with a long-term job and his feet planted firmly in the ground in Lawrence. He was the definition of stability while you were bouncing all around, wondering what your next move was going to be. You wanted to be with him, that much you were sure of. Unfortunately, you just didn’t know what being with him actually looked like. Would you go to him? Would he come to you? Should the two of you completely abandon everything you’ve ever known and go somewhere new? Everytime the conversation was brought up, you skillfully avoided it by a quick change in subject and a sly joke. When Dean came to visit for your birthday though, you didn’t manage to dodge the conversation. </p><p>	<em>The two of you laid in bed, your body melting into the warmth radiating off of Dean. He tucked his chin under your head and draped a heavy arm over your hip. You concentrated on the way his chest was slowly moving up and down, his breathing slow and steady against your back. His stubble tickled the top of your head as he leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. You never wanted to forget how perfect it felt when you got to fall asleep in his arms. He was already leaving tomorrow morning, it felt like he had just gotten here. You weren’t ready for the next couple of sleepless nights you’d have without him, wishing that he was hogging all of your covers. </em></p><p>
  <em>	He cleared his throat, pulling you from your trance. “So, I’ve been thinkin’...” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You giggled, shimmying yourself up to him. “Thinkin’ about what?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Y/N,” he mumbled, like he had something serious to say. You weren’t picking up on that, though. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Spit it out!” You teased, reaching behind you to give his cheek a playful tap. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“C’mon sweetheart, be serious for a second here.” He pleaded, sounding a little desperate. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You felt him shift behind you as he balanced himself on his elbow. You followed suit and turned to face him, searching his face for any indication on where this conversation was going to go. Normally, Dean was Mr. Playful. His dedication to staying on track was worrying. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Okay, I’m listening.” You whispered, giving him a reassuring caress of the cheek. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	When he got like this, you had to let him know that you were there for him. Ready to listen. You knew that growing up, no one ever really listened to him, causing him to always put himself on the back burner. You didn’t want to do that to him. You wanted to prove to Dean that he was worth putting himself first, or least you wanted him to know that you were going to be the one to listen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Uh, your lease ends in a couple of months,” he stated slowly, like he didn’t want to scare you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You gulped as his eyes searched yours. He wanted to feel the situation out before he continued. Truthfully, he had wanted to have this conversation the first night that he had gotten here, not on the night before he was leaving. But there never seemed to be a good time, so he figured he’d just bite the bullet because the stress of not having an answer from you was practically eating him alive. All you could do was stare back at him blankly. He was going to suggest one of two things, and you weren’t sure which scared you more. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“What do you think about comin’ to live with me?” He asked.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“In Kansas?” You replied skeptically. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Of course he was talking about Kansas! You felt absolutely ridiculous. Was that all you could say to him? You knew that this was already hard for him and here you were making it 100 times worse. Your own fear was eating you alive. You wanted this, but you were scared. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Yeah,” he stared, unsure of his abilities to continue this conversation without closing himself off to you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You could sense that he was growing more anxious by the second, so you let your hand travel down to his shoulder and scooted in closer to him. You had a choice to make, one that you knew was coming for months now. He was asking you to move in with him and you knew that realistically, it would be much harder for him to get a job in California than you in Kansas. You didn’t want him to relocate and completely start over. Theoretically, it would be easier for you to be the one to move, you were younger, you could get a job at virtually any hospital… but you were afraid. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Just say no if you don’t want to,” he spat, but his voice had no real venom in it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“I want to.” You whispered, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You and he both couldn’t believe that you actually said yes. He was so worried about making you leave, but there were limited choices between the two of you. If you wanted to stay together, this was the next step.</em>
</p><p>	You never anticipated how difficult it would be to take the next step. Dean couldn’t swing another trip out to you before you’d make the big move, money was tight and he was completely out of PTO from all of his previous trips. This meant that you were left with the impossible task of packing up an apartment that you lived in for more than five years. You were tired of spending your nights packing and sorting and grumbling when you should’ve been out with your friends before your left. You were physically tired of lifting heavy boxes, but nothing could have prepared you for how emotionally draining it was when you had to make a big move. </p><p>	You had been absolutely inconsolable as you and Dean drove away from your apartment complex. The two of you thought that your departure from Sam was going to be the worst of it. You had already spent the last twenty minutes sobbing in his arms, begging him to text you every night and to come back to Kansas for the holidays. Sam eyed Dean while you continued to cry into his shirt, giving him a look that asked <em>‘You sure this is the right move for her?’</em>. Dean wasn’t sure. You weren’t either. But it was happening and it was too late to turn around now. </p><p>	Dean could have never anticipated the sobs that raked your body after he merged onto the highway. You remembered how real everything felt in that moment, like getting on the highway meant there was absolutely no going back. Dean had felt like a complete and utter piece of shit seeing you so torn up about leaving. He had debated turning the car around and letting you stay at least a dozen times because he couldn’t take seeing you so upset. </p><p>	<em>“Oh god,” your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, but it was no use. The tears were falling faster than you could manage. </em></p><p>
  <em>	Dean gave you a worried look and reached for your thigh, “You gotta breathe, okay?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You nodded, not really putting his advice to good use. You felt so fucking stupid. Here you were, moving onto bigger and better things when the man you loved, and you were crying. Crying over what exactly? You didn’t even know. Letting go was scary, even if you were doing it with someone you loved. You were going to miss the little things; the way the light golden light hit your windowpane just around sunset. You were going to miss the walk that you and your coworkers had from the parking garage at sunrise when you got off night shift. You were going to miss the barista who knew your name and always wrote a dumb joke on your cup. You were going to miss every single second of living here. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	In a panic, you turned to Dean and cried, “I know I’m crying and there’s no reason to cry,” you took a shaky breath, “I’m happy about moving, I am!” You laughed, on the verge of feeling absolutely crazy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Dean glanced at you and cast a doubtful look. He knew deep down, that this was hurting you more than you liked to admit. He didn’t want to be the source of your unhappiness, it was his greatest fear - and here it was playing out in front of him. You watched him check behind his shoulder and pull off to an exit. You rode in silence as he pulled into the nearest gas station parking lot. Quietly, he turned the keys in the ignition, letting the car come to a quiet halt. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“Don’t think that I’m not happy, please.” You sniffed, wiping your face with your fingers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You had to get it together and try your best to reassure him that you were going to be okay. It wasn’t fair to him. You knew that your crying was stressing him out. He shook his head and shifted so that he was facing you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look at me,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The air was quiet between the two of you. His thumb running itself over your knuckles was helping you catch a breath. You closed your eyes and sat still for a second, concentrating on your own breathing. In and out… in and out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You leaned your head back against the seat, “Don’t think I’m not happy-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“You sure you want to do this?” He interrupted, like he had been waiting to say it since you got in the car. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	Your eyes shot open in a panic. He looked blurry through the tears, but you could still see the worry written all over his face. Your heart stopped. What did he mean? Was he going to tell you that he didn’t want this anymore? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“What?” You shrieked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“It’s just that I’ve never seen you cry this hard,” he whispered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	You wiped another tear from the corner of your eye and sniffed, “I just didn’t think it was going to be this hard.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“C’mon,” he murmured, bringing your hand to his lips. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	He pressed a strong kiss to your knuckles. A kiss that was reassuring. One that told you to trust him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>	“This is gonna be good for us,” he uttered, shaking your hand a little bit. He cracked one of his signature smiles. “Promise, sweetheart.”</em>
</p><p>	Dean was right. It was good for two of you. The entire ride to Kansas felt long and tiring, you couldn’t just turn your worry off, but Dean tried his best to cheer you up. First it was with more knuckle kisses and reassuring thigh squeezes. Eventually, he figured out that buying you a gas station iced tea and letting you control the music was the key to putting a smile on your face. </p><p>	When you first walked through the door of his apartment, he had a tiny bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. <em>‘You like ‘em?’</em> He had asked, throwing his arm around you. He somehow always knew that it was the little things that were going to reassure you that it would be okay. He even made sure that he had fresh bed sheets and your favorite body wash in the shower for you. That was the moment you knew that you had made the right choice, because in that moment, nothing seemed better than taking a warm shower and finally getting to fall asleep next to him. For good. </p><p>	As time passed, you slowly grew to love living with Dean. For starters, he had more countertop space than you. And his memory foam mattress! It was so much better falling asleep in his arms when it already felt like you were melting into a cloud. You liked having someone to come home to, someone to share your day with. It was nice being able to cook for more than one and it was always better sharing a beer than drinking alone. Not to mention the sex. Getting to tease Dean whenever you pleased was absolutely your favorite part of coming to live with him. Yeah, you knew that you had made the right move.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Exhausted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ella had been crying nonstop for <em>weeks</em> — the colic had not been kind to her. Her doctor reassured you that it was normal and that the crying would die down eventually. You certainly didn’t believe them when all you had been sent home with was an informative packet and a fussy baby. Dean was a lot stronger than you at first, his hormones weren’t out of whack and he could handle sitting with her brash cries longer than you. Eventually, even your so-called “strong” husband couldn’t deal, leaving you both miserable and heartbroken over what to do. </p>
<p>You had been fighting a lot. More so than you ever had in your relationship, the past few weeks had beat out the rough patch you went through when Dean couldn’t seem to put down the bottle. It was hard to not start a fight over every little thing, but the two of you couldn’t help it. It came in all sorts of forms like snappy comments about dirty bottles in the sink and passive aggressive texts about the daily to-do list before you both left for work in the morning. By now it had turned into resentment for slacking with how much time either of you held her. There were cheap blows and nasty comments about how someone was the “bad” parent that day — it was beginning to wear down the both of you. </p>
<p>You were losing your mind because of this. Dean was out of town at a work conference in Kansas City for the entire week; the lucky bastard. You felt like a shit mother, jealous of your husband for getting to leave your daughter for the entire week… feeling disgusted for even wishing that you could trade places with him and just get away from her. It was like he was on vacation, probably eating greasy bar food and drinking with the guys every night and getting an entire week’s worth of peace, quiet, and restful sleep. You of course, got to deal with Ella on your own. When you did get a break from comforting her, you were dying at work, so was any of it really a break? </p>
<p>The soft glow of the white night light was forcing you to fight the urge to close your eyes as you glided back and forth in the chair with Ella against your chest. Her screams had died down at least, only her quiet whines and whimpers filling the room. Rocking with her had left you with time to ruminate over the explosive fight that had happened right before Dean had left, resulting in him slamming the door on his way out and you crying right along with your daughter. It had been quiet since then, just the occasional detached text sent back and forth with updates on how Ella was doing. He had only called once, on Wednesday night when you let it slip that you were struggling to handle her on your own. </p>
<p>
  <em>“You okay?” He coughed. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You let out a pitiful laugh, “I’m just tired.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was quiet between the two of you for a minute. You listened to the hustle and bustle of people chatting in the background while he heard Ella’s cries. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ll be back Friday night, ‘kay?” He reassured you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You closed your eyes and nodded to yourself. Two more days. </em>
</p>
<p>No apologies had been exchanged, but you didn’t blame him for the fight and you hoped he didn’t blame you. Tensions had been high in the house and the lack of sleep wasn’t heping either of you keep a level head. Even though you were still feeling completely closed off, you were counting down the seconds until he’d be back tonight. It was nearing 8:30 now and you were desperate for a shower and the opportunity to sleep for more than two hours straight. </p>
<p>The door slammed shut, indicating that he was indeed home. Breathing a sigh of relief, you listened to the clanking of his keys hitting the counter, his heavy boots clomping across the floor, his duffel bag hitting the mattress, his knees cracking as he made his way around the house. The bedroom door creaked open, yellow light from the hallway flooding into the room. Ella wined at even the smallest amount of commotion and you threw your head back in exasperation, frustrated beyond belief. He cleared his throat and your eyes snapped to him in the doorway, still in his jeans and brown leather jacket. You bit your lip to literally bite your tongue. Nothing had been resolved since he had left and here he was, standing in the doorway, expecting you to do what exactly? </p>
<p>A throaty cry left Ella and before you could even process what was happening, Dean swooped down to grab her. He cradled her tiny smushed and beet red face against his chest, like it was the easiest task in the world to be with her. You sat in the chair, a little dumb-founded at his rapid response — the week away at definitely recharged him in a way that you envied. Still bouncing her through the screams, he gently laid his hand on your shoulder and rubbed his thumb across your sweatshirt. </p>
<p>“Go take a shower, sweetheart.” </p>
<p>You nodded, silently leaving Dean and the screaming baby behind. The fight kept replaying in the back of your mind as the warm water cascaded down your back, but you didn’t care. You took your sweet time, blocking out Ella’s muffled wails as you carefully shaved your legs with the fancy body butter that you hadn’t bothered to touch since having her. You hummed old 80s ballads to yourself as you combed an expensive hair mask through your locks. You didn’t even know the last time you had reached for it, probably when you still cared about haircare and your hair wasn’t up every single day. When was the last time that you wore your hair down? </p>
<p>	After a little self-pampering, you made your way to the kitchen and decided to just brew yourself a cup of tea and make some toast. You had already missed your opportunity to eat dinner from sitting up with her. Opening up the fridge to grab some butter, you realized there was a takeout box sitting on the top shelf. You peaked inside and smiled to yourself, seeing the garlic butter pasta inside. Dean knew how much you loved that, he must’ve brought it back for you. You’d eat it tomorrow. </p>
<p>	As you made your way back to your bedroom, you noticed that the crying had come to a complete halt. You probably had only three hours until she would wake up again, she was on sort of a crying schedule at this point. He was already in bed, facing your empty spot. You tried to be quiet as you got into bed, no noise other than the rustling of your comforter being lifted. The mattress dipped as you settled in, a tiny smile forming at your lips as you watched him peacefully sleep. You had missed him. </p>
<p>	His eyes fluttered open as flipped on his back and reached for you, pulling you to lay your head on his shoulder. You rubbed his chest through his flimsy cotton t-shirt and breathed in his deep scent, letting yourself get lost in him. Sometimes it just went this way for the two of you, no words exchanged, an apology that came in the form of a long lingering touch. </p>
<p>	“Your hair’s down,” he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. </p>
<p>	“Mhm,” you breathed, smiling at the fact that he noticed.</p>
<p> You thought with everything going on, he wouldn’t see the little things anymore. He always seemed to surprise you. </p>
<p>“Sorry that I left you by yourself all week.” </p>
<p>You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. You had to go.” </p>
<p>He huffed, “I probably could’ve gotten out of it if I tried hard enough.” </p>
<p>“It’s okay.” </p>
<p>His fingers combed through the top of your hair, “We’re gonna be okay.” </p>
<p>You nodded against his chest, “I know.” </p>
<p>	A moment passed before he craned his neck to press a soft kiss to your lips. You sighed, falling deeper into it, letting yourself melt into his hand on the back of your head. It had been a while since he kissed you like this, slow and tender like you had nowhere to be put in each other's arms. These kisses reminded you of a time before a screaming baby and postpartum body changes, when the biggest issue you and Dean had was deciding where to go get drinks or who was going to get on top for the night. </p>
<p>He grunted as he braced himself on top of you, pressing feverish kisses across your collarbone and up your neck. A breathy moan escaped your lips when he nibbled on the bottom of your ear, it had been so long since he kissed you like this. He smiled against your skin, making you desperately cling to his shoulders.  </p>
<p>“Dean,” you breathed, not really sure what you were wanting to say. </p>
<p>“Shh, sweetheart.” He mumbled, pulling back to look at you. A smile crept across his face as he brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face. “I don’t know about you, but I’d still like to get some sleep in after this.” </p>
<p>You laughed, playfully hitting his arm. “Shut up.”</p>
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